Fortnight of Flash
There is a new magazine out there that you should know about called Stealing Time. A literary magazine for parents. I know, right? Totes brill.
Anyway, a review is forthcoming because I requested a free copy of their first issue in exchange for offering to review it.
But the matter at hand here is that they are doing this thing called Fortnight of Flash (which is explained more fully in the link). I obviously have not been writing a piece of flash fiction/memoir/whatever each day, but I did come up with one, solitary offering, which I share with you now:
He screams, and disintegrates into panicked sobs. My heart melts for him, I rush over and scoop him up. I wish I could explain in a way he could understand... But all he sees is betrayal: I could fix it, make it go away, but I'm not doing that.
Why, mama?!
I can see it in his eyes. Every move I make, trying to get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible, he continues to be tortured by fear. I pick him up and hold him a moment longer - his terror briefly subsiding. The day is coming soon when what he's most afraid of will happen. Not today, though. Today is just a reminder. I set him down and his hysteria rises again.
Please, no, mama! Save me!
I quickly finish hanging the coats in the closet, and finally close the door on the tormentor. No, buddy, it's okay. I'm not going to vacuum today. I promise.
Anyway, a review is forthcoming because I requested a free copy of their first issue in exchange for offering to review it.
But the matter at hand here is that they are doing this thing called Fortnight of Flash (which is explained more fully in the link). I obviously have not been writing a piece of flash fiction/memoir/whatever each day, but I did come up with one, solitary offering, which I share with you now:
He screams, and disintegrates into panicked sobs. My heart melts for him, I rush over and scoop him up. I wish I could explain in a way he could understand... But all he sees is betrayal: I could fix it, make it go away, but I'm not doing that.
Why, mama?!
I can see it in his eyes. Every move I make, trying to get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible, he continues to be tortured by fear. I pick him up and hold him a moment longer - his terror briefly subsiding. The day is coming soon when what he's most afraid of will happen. Not today, though. Today is just a reminder. I set him down and his hysteria rises again.
Please, no, mama! Save me!
I quickly finish hanging the coats in the closet, and finally close the door on the tormentor. No, buddy, it's okay. I'm not going to vacuum today. I promise.
* * *
Now, wasn't that fun? I've never tried this genre before, but it is so refreshing! And manageable! If you are the writing type, I encourage you to give it a go, and link up to their thing however you see fit.
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