In a Flash
1 prompt. 6 writers. 150 words or fewer.
Arguably fueled by the internet generation’s short attention span, flash fiction has quickly become one of this decade’s popular literary forms. But what exactly is it?
Commonly defined by its word count (1,000 words or fewer), the form defies typical characterization. It can include all of the elements of storytelling 麻豆精品 S� plot, setting, character, conflict and narration 麻豆精品 S� but it need not. It should create an intense emotional impact. But in its simplest realization it should be a simple sketch, or flash, of a scene; a snapshot of a moment in time.
The shortest of this form has been called 麻豆精品 S淭witterature 麻豆精品 S� because it adheres to the platform’s 140-character limit, and can easily be found under #sixwordstory, inspired by Ernest Hemingway’s alleged tale: 麻豆精品 S淔or sale: Baby shoes. Never worn. 麻豆精品 S� But it 麻豆精品 S檚 often also been referred to as short short stories, sudden fiction, microfiction, nanofiction (55 words), dribbles (50 words), drabbles (100 words), quick fiction and postcard fiction. The Chinese call it 麻豆精品 S渟moke-long 麻豆精品 S� because one should be able to read the story in the time it takes to smoke a cigarette. And the Japanese call it “palm-of-the-hand” because, well, the stories are short enough to fit in the palm of your hand.
Smitten with the idea of being able to share multiple stories from multiple authors, we turned to the Department of English and asked professors, students and alumni in the creative writing program to submit some flash fiction of their own. The prompt was simply 麻豆精品 S渕irrors and reflection, 麻豆精品 S� and each writer had only 150 words to weave their tale. Here 麻豆精品 S檚 what they created.
Mirror, Mirror
麻豆精品 S淵ou’re no longer the fairest, 麻豆精品 S� the mirror said. The mirror was a liar, so the queen pulled the mirror from the wall and smashed it on the royal floor. 麻豆精品 S淣o longer, 麻豆精品 S� each shard screamed, winking from the tile at her feet. With the heel of her royal boot, the queen ground the glass to dust, and still the dust would not be silenced. 麻豆精品 S淣o longer, 麻豆精品 S� the dust sang. The queen opened her mouth to scream a royal scream, and the dust coated her royal throat. It laced her lungs. Until, soon enough, the queen was not only no longer, she was no more.
Hands
High school drama class, 2004: The mirror game 麻豆精品 S� sit, knees touching, cross-legged, with your younger sister 麻豆精品 S� your assigned partner. Mimic her movements. Focus. Connect. Don 麻豆精品 S檛 speak. What would you say, anyway?
Forgive me, sister. I have sinned.
She 麻豆精品 S檚 had a tough night 麻豆精品 S� red eyes, ringed by yellow crust from crying. Your fault. Heat fuzzes your cheeks like TV snow static. You heard once that no one ever touches anyone else; touch is just electron transfer. Your four hands hover at your chests 麻豆精品 S� push away? Pull closer? Hands shake. Watch the electrons leap the space between your palms 麻豆精品 S� almost pressed in prayer.
Infinity Mirror
He took her to the gallery. Last month 麻豆精品 S檚 gelatin silver photographs were replaced with infinity mirrors, each one reflecting neon lights ever smaller.
麻豆精品 S淚t can 麻豆精品 S檛 really be infinite, 麻豆精品 S� he said. 麻豆精品 S淚 bet under an electron microscope you could see where the light fizzles. 麻豆精品 S�
麻豆精品 S淟ooks infinite to me, 麻豆精品 S� she said.
麻豆精品 S淣othing lasts forever. 麻豆精品 S�
They looked into the next mirror, bigger than the others. It looked like a portal to another dimension. 麻豆精品 S淵ou don 麻豆精品 S檛 know that, 麻豆精品 S� she said. He saw the LEDs falling away. Neon echoed into oblivion. The center was too dark, too open, too unwritten, sliding away into forever.
Cool Your Heart
Before your first date, mirror you shows you how to kiss properly. He traces the shape of your date in the air, cups the silhouette by its chin, leans in slowly. You turn away when mirror uses his tongue:
Like you haven’t seen this before.
“Just not in action,” you say. You turn off the light so mirror you can 麻豆精品 S檛 see you practice your handshake, your hello. You know mirror you will be disappointed when you don 麻豆精品 S檛 come home with a trophy of lipstick; you couldn 麻豆精品 S檛 go through unleashing your mouth on her like it was a plague.
Distorted Image
My gaze falls on the cheap mirror hanging crookedly off to the side of the refrigerator. In it, my eyes are beady, red and puffy. My hooked nose is extra long and bright pink. The mirror has a distortion. The middle part of it elongates my face while the outer part stretches it out. I know this, and yet, I wonder how much of a difference it makes.
Chumki
On days like this when all the bulbs in his crumbling bookshop, all the halogen heads and all the people in this overcrowded city sparkle like chumkis on a bridal veil, Gourhari closes the shop and walks to the red-light area.
Jui, the prostitute, wraps herself in the old red silk and wears the bridal veil when she hears Gourhari walk upstairs to her room.
He says her face is a mirror of his wife 麻豆精品 S檚. A distant reflection of love that died the second day of their marriage.
She moves a little, angling herself so the chumkis on her veil smile. The saddest smile. For years.