In the Autumn I started editing a novel that was way overdue. Plus I ventured into flash fiction. I wanted to see how few words I, who likes to use a dozen words when less than half that would suffice, could be happy capturing a story in. Starting with 500+ I kept tightening until I'd got down to 300. From there my determinism kicked in. It resulted in a collection which I called She Dreamed Of Flash Fiction. All the stories were 200 words each.
This cynic discovered she loves writing flash fiction. Below is one of the more experimental ones about popcorn. It requires a deep breath.
Popcorn Maker
Writing
incessantly day in and out to earn her pennies to feed the family, to keep the roof
over their heads, because the bills came in higher than the estimates said, the
only way she could keep going was to plug in the last remaining electric
appliance that continued working, and it was her loyal, faithful popcorn maker,
for which she gave thanks every day, despite the fact the corn had to remain
flavourless as the ingredients to make it similar to commercial products were
beyond her budget, so she had grown accustomed – as was wont to happen – though
her taste buds still remembered and yearned for tastier times as the machine
buzzed and whirled, then spat out its insides into the cone shaped white
plastic, from where a few self-delusional, still escaped and jumped, bouncing
from the worktop to the chair and then the floor, it mattered not, until one
true escapee, had to have its moment and because it believed it was different
and non-conformist, but not a leader, tried a different tactic by leaping out
and high and straight, catching her in the eye, resulting in the Popcorn Maker
being labelled non viable and taken away immediately.
The
End
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