Flash Fiction 2023 

[
    
      {
        "name": "Top Stories Video Pair",
        "insertPoint": "7",
        "component": "17087298",
        "parentWrapperClass": "fdn-ads-inline-content-block",
        "requiredCountToDisplay": "1"
      }
    
    ]

Ninety-nine words don't sound like enough to draw you in, take you on a narrative trip, change your perspective or sketch a biography, but they can be. Entries in the Journal's annual Flash Fiction Contest always run the gamut: stick-ups, budding romances, mysteries, reunions and dystopian futures populated by killers and ghosts, scientists and thieves. The winner and finalists below, chosen once again by yours truly, poet and College of the Redwoods faculty emeritus David Holper, Booklegger owner Jennifer McFadden and retired Booklegger co-owner Nancy Short, are a wild ride through Humboldt imaginations. Read and travel along with us.

—Jennifer Fumiko Cahill

Or listen to this year's Flash Fiction Contest stories here.

2023 Flash Fiction Contest Winner:

Hieroglyphs

By Dave Reagan

I have no tattoos, but tomorrow I will have two. Just enough to tell the tale.

The first will be a tree. Nothing fancy, just a few scratches. "Here is a tree," it will say. And then — blank. A bare back.

I don't know what comes after that and wonder if it even matters. But the ending I do know, have known, for way too long. As it began, so it ends. With another tree, this one on fire.

"Ink it slow and deep," I will say, pulling off my shirt. "Make it hurt."

Dropping a clue at a time, this author sustains an interesting tension suggestive of a deeply troubling descent into pain, violence and self-destruction. — David Holper

I had to read this subtle story a few times. The author gives us "just enough to tell the tale," summed up in two images. One is a simple line drawing of a tree, the second, a tree on fire. These two tattoos the character plans show a journey — innocence to experience — the details of which hardly matter. The image of "the ending" indicates a depth of life experience, profoundly affecting the character. The last paragraph underscores the character's eloquent way of bearing witness. — Nancy Short

This one used the barest of details, like the minimalist tattoo itself, and its single dramatic image to gesture toward the story of a life. Its ending speaks to what feels like guilt or the hope that pain has meaning, or both. — NCJ

Possibilities

By Dottie Simmons

It was getting late. He was wondering how long he'd have to wait. Wondering if he was willing to wait. Such careful plans and now she's 15 minutes late. No cell reception, no way to get in touch.

Possibilities ran through his mind .... Was there an accident? Did she really mean to join him for this hike? Was he imagining the connection between them? Time came and went.

Despondent, he headed back, no longer interested in mountain air and fall colors.

Then, down the road, there she was! At a different trailhead, waiting.

That's how it all began.

This simple tale of a misunderstanding and the sweetness of its resolution were refreshing. Our main character struggles with the inner questions that any of us would if we were stood up by someone we liked a lot. His mood sinks and then, just when our character has given up, we get a welcome reversal and a gratifying last line. — Jennifer McFadden

We are inside the thoughts of a man as he waits to meet up with a new friend. As time passes and she doesn't show up, we watch him go from hope, to fear, to despair and self-doubt. He heads back in disappointment. Our hearts leap with his when he discovers his friend waiting at a different spot. All is well! The last line shows the beginning of a new, good future. — Nancy Short

One Lovely Afternoon

By John M. Vrieze

The lonely old man sat on the cement bench overlooking Humboldt Bay, bundled up and shrouded by his gray hoodie to keep warm on the clear winter afternoon. High tide receding.

Thinking. Was it worth it? Will it get better? While shifting to get more comfortable, he pulled out the .38 Special and buried it snugly in his lap. The cold metal warmed under layers of winter garments.

A flock of geese took to wing, honking madly. I'll enjoy this beautiful day and watch the sunset, he thought, then decide.

This entry paints a picture of a person contemplating life's value and whether he wants to continue living. The language effectively underscores his state of mind as he is "shrouded" in a gray hoodie and "the high tide is receding," as his best years seem behind him. As a flock of geese takes to the air and he rests in the beauty of the scene, he postpones his decision. I think the hope he sees in the view of Humboldt Bay on a clear day encourages him to put the gun away. This story uses setting as a powerful metaphor and reminds us the beauty of nature can be life altering. — Jennifer McFadden

This author offers us a sensitive portrait of an old man contemplating suicide, but in the description of the beautiful afternoon shows us how his thoughts shift and he finds hope to live another day. — David Holper

A man toward the end of his lifespan ("high tide receding") looks to nature for solace. The gun he carries tells us he's considering suicide, yet the tone is peaceful. "I'll enjoy this beautiful day and watch the sunset," before making a decision. This man is a thoughtful witness to his own life and inevitable mortality. This is a calm, almost sweet exploration of life and death. — Nancy Short

Big Boy

By Natalia Collier

"We're in a rut, it's always the same place," she says.

"I just really want a corn dog," he replies sheepishly. He sees her wince. Silence.

His voice, hopeful, "I found a new restaurant that has corn dogs on the kid's menu."

"You're not a kid."

"We'll say it's for this guy," he smiles at their baby.

She closes her eyes, breathes; the smile forms involuntarily, "Well, I always wanted children, now I've got two."

Their eyes meet in the rearview mirror.

"I'll order real food too."

"How responsible, young man."

"I know," he says and gently squeezes her shoulder.

The corn dog doesn't get nearly enough consideration in literature, but here it's the catalyst for a small, sweet exchange between parents who tease each other affectionately. It feels like a rut they are happy to be in, a rarity in fiction. — NCJ

Superpower

By Laura Norin

Wrapped in a thin blanket, she watched the world pass her by. Most kept their eyes straight ahead or fixed to their screens, while some glanced her way without seeing her. A few stopped to drop something in her bucket, but even they didn't see past the dishevel. Not one knew of the job she had to leave — anyone would have; or that her car had died once and for all at the worst possible moment; or that she liked her tea with two drops of maple syrup.

She had at long last achieved her childhood dream of invisibility.

The adage "Be careful what you wish for" is exemplified in this poignant story. The woman at the heart of it is living on the margins, but this wasn't always the case. The third sentence reveals an earlier time in her life much richer in creature comforts, and on the everyday type of setbacks that changed her circumstances so dramatically. The power of invisibility that she longed for in childhood turns to the pain of being overlooked by society and even by passersby. — Jennifer McFadden

A poignant story of a woman who finds herself homeless and alone. Huddled on the sidewalk, she watches people. They ignore her. By making us privy to her thoughts, the author presents a developed character with a history and personality, in circumstances that cause her to be written off by others. The last line is heartbreakingly ironic. — Nancy Short

Shared Past

By Lauri Rose

Dana and Delilah, freshman girls, were thrilled to be walking home every day with Jack, the senior football captain. Then they weren't thrilled. Then they grew scared, but didn't know how to say no.

Fear and embarrassment turned to twisted pride and unspoken competition. In the end Delilah won Jack, a trailer and three kids before she was 20. Later, much later, Dana became Delilah's lawyer. The pictures of the bruises made Dana shudder as she remembered how hard she had tried to out compete Delilah's bigger breasts and greater need. Pro bono was the least she owed Delilah.

Exploring the importance of a friendship between two women, this author traces the ironic arc of their lives from the competition to win the football player, the abusive marriage the winner finds herself trapped in and the legal support the loser offers to help her friend escape that trap. — David Holper

Klepto Kathy – 1969

By Philip Middlemiss

I was an 18-year-old virgin, a short-order cook with intimacy issues. Kathy, an older waitress, wanted to celebrate Apollo 11's landing.

"Klepto, Kathy" was stealthy, which enamored me. Her bed squeaked under our weight.

Kathy removed her eyelashes, contact lenses, padded bra. Opened her mouth and removed her dentures.

Kathy's toothless grin gelded my excitement. "Just give me a few minutes," I pleaded.

She pulled my shorts down to her pleasure, "Your eagle has landed," she whispered.

Afterward, we laughed. Armstrong prevailed, gone was my gynephobia, virginity and ... my wallet.

Set against the backdrop of the Apollo 11 moon landing, the author provides a comic account of a young man's first sexual experience, complete with dentures, puns about his failure to launch, and a stolen wallet. — David Holper

Untitled

By Alexis George

Dusty plunged the spade into the riverbank plopping the mucky soil into his pan. Cool river water rinsed away the dirt leaving him two shiny gold nuggets.

The sound of wild voices, the rumble of hooves stopped him dead. Thieves. Furiously digging, Dusty poured all but two bits into the hole.

"Pony up." A broken fence sneer.

Dusty shrugged, silent as a tumbleweed. The thief threw Dusty to the ground and ripped free his pouch.

"Crumbs," the thief pocketed Dusty's gold, scowling, "Some miner you are, old man."

Watching them ride off, Dusty thought, "Some thieves you are."

The Wild West cliché of bandits robbing a gold miner draws new life from clever description and grim humor at the end. — NCJ

Forbidden Past, Ungendered

By Lauri Rose

The past wrapped tightly around them. Like barbed wire it cut them deeply as it drew them together. It was a closeness neither desired. But neither would renounce.

So they met for brunch every other month. They talked about high school and all the fun they'd had. They never talked about their lingering passion. Or, the nest of confusion living different existences in each of their separate hearts.

Occasionally, when saying good-bye, the briefest feather-touch of a kiss crossed their lips. It was an uneasy talisman of assurance that desire remained between them.

This story explores, without details, a strong connection between two people who have long since gone their separate ways. Yet neither can cut the strong tie that keeps them meeting regularly. A study in ambivalence. — Nancy Short

The Encounter

By James Donzella

Stan and Larry bump into a tall man on the street.

"Well, as I live and breathe," said the tall man. "You're —"

"In the flesh. It's been at least —"

"Longer, You still with —"

"Still there," Stan said.

"Is he still —"

"Naw, got fired."

"What about —"

"Divorced," Stan said. "Hey! Guess who I ran into?"

"Is he still in town?"

"Yessir."

"We should —"

"Definitely. Call me," Stan said as the tall man walked away.

"Who was that gentleman?" Larry said.

Stan smiled, shook his head, in all condescension said, "Damned if I know."

This author has a keen ear for dialogue and a keen eye for the sort of quotidian encounters when we meet someone we've forgotten — and yet find ourselves pretending to know them. — David Holper

A story of faking one's way through a brief interaction, deftly told through dialog. I admire the artful delivery and humor in this description of an everyday experience. — Nancy Short

The Rescue

By Pat DuRant

"She's the wild thing!"

Midwife birthed, on the hidden coast; raised on hay bales, and raw salmon. At 3 she wandered into the woods, only to be seen in shadow.

Until the outcry.

Taken in by a God-fearing couple, she never spoke but was an affectionate, inseparable shepherdess to their infant son. Schooling was lost on her; as was religion. They celebrated the lad's birthday with a picnic in the nearby campground. With all eyes on opening of gifts, she took the hand of the 3 year old and slipped into a thicket.

Neither was ever seen again.

A feral child returns to the wild with her rescuers' son in this tiny biography with a supernatural feel. By the end, we wonder who's done the rescuing and from what. — NCJ