UPDATED WITH WINNER - LitReactor's Flash Fiction Smackdown: 'New Yorked' Edition
Flash fiction: A style of fictional literature marked by extreme brevity.
Welcome to LitReactor's Flash Fiction Smackdown, a monthly bout of writing prowess.
How It Works
We give you inspiration in the form of a picture, poem, video, or prompt. You write a flash fiction piece using the inspiration we gave you. Put your entry in the comments section. One winner will be picked and awarded a prize.
The Rules
- 25 words, tops. No more.
- It can be any genre.
- Give it a title. Please keep it to 10 words.
- We're not exactly shy, but let's stay away from senseless racism or violence.
- One entry per person.
- Editing your entry after you submit it is permitted.
- LitReactor staffers can't win, but are encouraged to participate.
- All stories submitted on or before June 29th will be considered. We'll run the winner on June 30th.
This Month's Prize
This month, I'm teaming up with fellow LitReactee Rob Hart—Hi, Rob!—to promote Rob's new novel New Yorked, which comes out in print this month. Instead of a book, we are giving away one of the cool pieces of swag Rob's publishers came up. This month's winner will receive a limited-edition New Yorked umbrella—and no, it's NOT weaponized, and I wouldn't advise you to use it AS a weapon.
Your Inspiration:
The beating heart of New York City.
What does that conjure for you?
You don't have to live there to participate. You don't even need to have been there. Because the Big Apple is a city of legend. Greatest city in the world, and it ain't even an exaggeration. Even if you've never laid eyes on it, it conjures some sort of feeling or emotion or fear or expectation.
Give us that in 25 words or less. Show us the beating heart of New York City. The one that you know. The one that you've heard of. The one that you believe in or dream about.
And the Winner Is...Scott Williams
Congrats Scott!! Rob loved your entry because
It's a non-obvious nod to the dangerous and uncontrollable and entropic nature of the city. It feels so much bigger than what's there. I'm already thinking of a rogue park overtaking urban decay.
Enjoy your super-awesome (though not-weaponized) New Yorked umbrella! You may need it to defend yourself from whatever is lurking in the park...oh and it's good for rain, too.
Green Paws
Finally, when tree roots tore up the foundations along Central Park West, we realized: the walls surrounding the Park weren’t there to keep something out.
Column by Taylor Houston
Taylor Houston is a genuine Word Nerd living in Portland, OR where she works as a technical writer and volunteers on the marketing committee for Wordstock, a local organization dedicated to writing education. She has a BA in Creative Writing and Spanish from Hamilton College and attended Penn State's MFA program in Creative Nonfiction. She has taught writing at all levels from middle school to college to adult, and she is the creator of Writer’s Cramp, a class for adults who just want to write!
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Looking forward to seeing what you folks got! And here's the prize...
23RD ST. STATION
a haiku
Once saw a rat eat
a mouse. It was pretty gross.
Squeak, squeak, silence. Morte.
And That's When the C.H.U.D.s Came At Me
Of course you'll have a bad impression of New York if you only focus on the Pimps and C.H.U.D.s
Greasy rats file through storm drains,
their furry bodies bump against the grates,
their surges and eases like the foot traffic
"lub dub, lub dub'.
New Departing
It only took five minutes.
He stepped off the bus and was now a victim of mugging.
He lit a cigarette before exhaling, "I'm home."
L'eau Big Apple
I step over the mustard yellow line, and cope with the stench (pretending it's just bad cologne with hints of patchouli, cooked piss), called A-Train.
"Mohawk...
Piercings...
Human statue...
Neck Tattoos...
Ponytail...
Well, at least they all look great in a suit."
- Ok, the president will be here in 5.
Leaving the Farm
"It's my first time."
"If you're from there it's Mecca. If not it's hell."
He returned the ticket. "Hell is what I'm trying to escape."
Green Paws
Finally, when tree roots tore up the foundations along Central Park West, we realized: the walls surrounding the Park weren’t there to keep something out.
Not My Fault My Neighbors Talk Through Thin Apartment Walls
"Cities definitely aren't for me," I mumble, staring out into the crowded hallway.
"This body will fertilyze my carpet before I get any privacy."
Abusive Relationship
She knocks me down. Her buildings tower over me like bullies on a playground. I rise to kiss her cheek. Round Two New York.
Filmed Before
The city of sitcoms. Where audience laughter long lost still echoes on demand, and shots between scenes show a world where the towers still stand.
Am I Where I'm Supposed To Be?
The key fits the lock, but everything inside looks different.
The furniture isn’t mine, but the room is familiar.
Is it me or the city?
The Unavoidable Transformation of Mary Sue Beth
"New York is the greatest city ever!" she exclaimed.
Then she got there.
The city ate her alive.
She was smoke. Thin air.
Found anew.
Wooden soles slap cracked cobbles.
Black boys with blonde names
Rolling blunts outside bodega churches,
Frans Hals and Langston Hughes
Curating museums in their brains.
Pulsing
Pounding
Throbbing
Gripping
Sweating
Dripping
Grinding
Reeking
Screeching
Spurting
Slurping
Pushing
Pumping
Spitting
Aching
Teasing
Biting
Screaming
New York, I'm coming
Groggy-Eyed Epiphany
Roaches scatter across the table as I stir, passing their namesakes in the ashtray. Shitty speakers wail rap and static. This manic city defeats me.
Below New York
This checkered quilt of crowds and taxis would never believe what hid beneath the tunnels. Watching the city's pulsing beat she swore they never would.
The Slow Vibration of Energy
I'm too close to the edge as the train rushes by. I feel the pulse of the city in its reverberations; my heart beats faster.
First Trip to NYC
Exhausted tourists, we don't climb the statue. Instead, we sit in the grass with litter and pigeon bones and flip the green lady the bird.
_______________
Since I'm not judging, I thought I'd enter. Of course, I can't win.
Pastrami on Rye
The New York deli was an incongruous menagerie of food.
This guy wearing a wife-beater said. “Gimme the usual.”
I wanted to be that guy.
If I can make it here
Where locals bid on Mid-west skylines
And tourists, seeking inspiration, find masterpieces
In every pock-marked vagrant.
It’s gutters and grapes on the vine
Parasitic Paradise