Last month, I participated in Writing Victoria’s Flash Fiction. The premise of the competition is simple: Every day for thirty days, writers are given a different prompt to create a 30-word story. The theme for 2021 was ‘unfold’.
Last year was my first time participating, and it was the perfect tonic for dealing with Melbourne’s lockdown. Given I’ve been toiling away on my novel for 18 months solid (more on this later), it was a welcome pleasure to write bite-sized stories with new characters, genres and themes. Some worked – others bombed – but the next day always brought a new word and chance to try something different.
More than that, the competition introduced me to a whole raft of new writers (Hmm, not sure this is the correct collective; a coffee-shop of writers?). The clever arrangement of their words and the authenticity of their voices inspired me greatly; their stories made me want to elevate my own writing. As a result, I was lucky enough to be adjudged as one of the competition’s three runners-up with my Day 9 entry for ‘open’.
Thanks again to Writers Victoria for facilitating the competition and well done to the other runners-up, and everyone who participated. A special congratulations to @IncognitoKorps for his brilliant winning entry for the word ‘display’.
With micro-fiction temporarily done for now, I’ve returned to my novel. It’s at that stage where I’ve sliced 30% of its words away, and am seeing how it reads on my iPad as an end-to-end story (some parts were fine, while others I hated with the intensity of a thousand suns). Overall, I’m excited to share it with beta-readers and an editor soon.
I hope everyone is keeping well.
Matt
PS: My full list of entries for #WVFlashFic21 is below.
My entries for Writing Victoria’s Flash Fiction 2021
He stepped from the train. The war had swallowed the boy from the creek she’d remembered; his copper-colored muscles now replaced by a ghost in a creased uniform.
April 1st 2021, #creased
Cleaning out her wardrobe, he found their old camera. He drove into town for the chemist to develop the film but the kid behind the counter only laughed.
April 2nd 2021, #develop
He studied the gaunt faces in the beds near his. He’d spent a career crafting marketplace segmentation strategies targeting these people’s savings.
There’d been a mistake; this wasn’t his ward.
April 3rd 2021, #segmentation
She followed the dancing blossoms of the cherry trees down the Philosopher’s Path. Her katana felt light on her shoulder, the blade singing its sweet ballad of vengeance.
April 4th 2021, #blossom
Our jobs evaporated with the lake; minutes dragged on for years. Daddy says the Devil makes work for idle hands. If that’s true – the Devil became this old town’s mayor.
April 5th 2021, #hands
A corpse hung nailed to a post at the camp’s entrance. Its young face, robbed of eyes and illuminated under a ghostly moon, served as warning: the treaty was broken.
April 6th 2021, #illuminate
The first shot missed, smacking into an ironbark.
Idiot.
He squeezed the trigger like gramps had shown him. A whip’s crack and the roo crumpled; the boy’s dreams poisoned evermore.
April 7th 2021, #crumple
My family’s reaction to the divorce was predictable: Gail dichotomised my fuck-ups, Dad talked footy. Mum baked an unprecedented volume of cheesecake, forcing me to renew my gym membership.
April 8th 2021, #renew
We scratched and scraped our memories from the walls, hiding the darkest under lavender-coloured paint. The auctioneer opened the bidding low, though. A garden overgrown by weeds and rumours.
April 9th 2021, #open
Donna entered the stage.
The crowd howled at the sight of a pop-star contestant twice their age. She found Casey.
Her daughter mouthed the words she needed: “Go Mum”.
April 10th 2021, #pop
Amid the Botox and Moët, one might forget this was a heist. Granted, the Met Gala was more elaborate than a bank – but missteps led to the same cell.
April 11th 2021, #elaborate
After the morning sex, her bliss unravelled.
Now free of tequila and pent-up need, Olivia inspected his apartment: a museum of lava lamps and bobbleheads. How treatable was this?
April 12th 2021, #unravel
They’d vowed to keep proceedings civil, “respectful”. What manifested was neither.
As Tracey drove home from the court, Jacob played with a toy.
“Did you win the custard, Mummy?”
Christ.
April 13th 2021, #manifest
Another full recycling bin.
Sifting through the scrunched-up lives of the victims had broken him, numbed him. The burn of whiskey, the sole reminder he wasn’t dead too.
April 14th 2021, #scrunch
She finished reading the chapter and the old man turned to her.
“Sarah?”
Her eyes glistened; these precious flickers of consciousness always made her teary.
“Yeah, Dad – it’s me.”
April 15th 2021, #consciousness
The Audi revved its annoyance, but Mitali stood firm. She waits for the last child and blows her whistle; the car bursts forward.
Sirens immediately follow, then her smirk.
“Dickhead”.
April 16th 2021, #bursts
They moved into a dilapidated terrace that shook with each passing train. She learned his foibles – pineapple in pasta, Manilow’s entire discography – yet inexplicably, she stayed.
Love was perverse.
April 17th 2021, #learn
They lay in bed, breathless. Her fingers explored the scars covering his back.
“Diplomatic work looks dangerous.”
He pulled her against him, kissing her neck.
“Perilous”.
The champagne fizzed, untouched.
April 18th 2021, #explore
They were beautiful – orange gerberas this time – and she replaced the lilies in the vase. Her husband fondly mocked her tears, oblivious to the guilt his flowers revealed.
April 19th 2021, #reveal
“Press down.”
The boy’s folds were uncertain.
“Don’t think origami; feel it.”
As a girl, she’d only ever endured her grandfather’s lessons. Now, passed to her children, they were precious.
April 20th 2021, #origami
The police expanded the search. Local volunteers called Tommy’s name and fought through tangled knots of blackberry thorns. They found the body at dusk; his arms, the following day.
April 21st 2021, #expand
We smouldered for weeks; charred gums stabbed into the earth like expelled matchsticks. People drove past our turn-off, tutting our name. But in the spring, green emerges: resilient and hopeful.
April 22nd 2021, #emerge
She liked Chris, not just his job or dimples. She felt safe unfurling herself to him.
‘What do you look like?’ he eventually asked.
She uploaded a photo from Bali.
April 23rd 2021, #unfurl
“Are you courting with anyone?”
Gran’s generation had been foxtrots and love letters; less about grinding and nudes.
“Not really.”
“Have you tried the tinder?”
I blushed into my chamomile.
April 24th 2021, #letter
The flame’s light danced on Mick’s medals, unwrapped and pinned to his granddaughter’s lapel.
Later, as she wheeled my chair down Swanston, my fallen mate was still somehow helping me.
April 25th 2021, #unwrap
Blake stared at the display. After all, his sacrifices for acceptance into the program – he’d failed.
The sous vide was too warm, his trout ruined.
But first – an ad break.
April 26th 2021, #display
I lock the toilet door and curse my eyes: each hot tear, a stinging betrayal.
‘You deserve to be in that meeting.’
Breathe.
I wipe the weakness from my cheeks.
April 27th 2021, #betray
Mr Jiggles’ plan unfolded purr-fectly.
Humans pawed past their freedoms and downloaded his app. Overnight, their phone’s cameras had become his eyes; the microphones, his ears.
Cat-atonic™ assured feline ascendance.
April 28th 2021, #become
Folks said O’Dowd’s confession gave the town “closure”. Six years later, the victim’s faces still haunted Maggie’s dreams.
She re-opened the case, knowing the darkest truths were discovered – not volunteered.
April 29th 2021, #discover
Paul unfolded the new shirt; he somehow missed his orange ones. The halfway house was ok: no bars on the windows, but an 8pm curfew. Released, but still not free.
April 3oth 2021, #unfold
Matthew S. Wilson 