Flash Fiction Month 2017, Day 14
Once upon a time there lived a poor peasant family. This family was so poor that they couldn’t afford free samples. This family was so poor that their front door and their back door shared a hinge. This family was so poor that ducks threw bread at them. More relevant to this particular story, though, this family was so poor that they had to send their two children, Hans and Greta, out into the woods because there was no food.
This might seem like bad parenting to begin with, but what made it even worse was that these particular woods were well known for being absolutely crammed full of sinister fairytale creatures that ate nothing but children and spoke only in rhyme. But Hans and Greta were both exceedingly clever—as children often are in this sort of story—and so although they found themselves cold, hungry and alone in a hostile forest, they were confident that they would soon make a home for themselves and live happily ever after.
However, innate personal attributes only get you so far without any material resources to back them up, and so by nightfall Hans and Greta were still cold, hungry and alone, but they had managed to dig up a small, hard, wild potato. So that was something. Continue reading
Flash Fiction Month 2016, Day 2
Mrs. Withers didn’t say anything. She didn’t frown. She just tutted, and that was the worst possible thing.
“Is…is there something wrong?” asked Lucy, not sure she really wanted to hear the answer.
Mrs. Withers shifted her pear drop from one side of her mouth to the other. “Well,” she said, speaking around it, “it’s your story, Lucy. Your spelling is improving, and your handwriting is excellent as always, but a proper story really needs to have a beginning, a middle, and an end.”
“But it does!” Lucy leaned over the page on the desk. “Amanda finds a magic door in the cupboard under the stairs that leads to the mythical fairy world. That’s the beginning. She discovers that the fairy world has been overtaken by a wicked Goblin King, and sets out to defeat him. That’s the middle. After a long and perilous journey, she reaches the Goblin King’s fortress but—”
“You can’t just end a story with ‘She woke up. It was all a dream.’ It’s not the done thing!”
“I…” Lucy had always heard that a story was what you made it and that there weren’t really any solid rules. Then again, she had also heard a lot of solid rules. “I sort of ran out of time,” she said, meekly. “But that’s how Alice in Wonderland ends!” Continue reading