Well, probably ‘post-it fiction’ or ‘twitter-fiction’ really if we’re being pedantic, but I couldn’t resist the alliteration. And besides, I closed my Twitter account.
I’m running a flash-fiction competition at work in honour of last week’s National Storytelling Week. Some of my efforts are below.
When the fire started I went straight for the photos of the wife and kids. Far easier to live with than the real thing.
It was the food shortage that brought the hungry dog to my house in the first place. Funny how things turn out.
The lipstick she found on the glass was the wrong shade of red. Later, she mopped blood off the floor, wondering if hers was the same shade of red.
‘There’s no-one under the bed,’ she said and bent down to look. She never got a chance to tell him she was wrong.
Digging the hole, I realised: my feelings had always been inconvenient to him. Now his remains were inconvenient to me.