Flish fiction
Confuzzled had a contest for super-short stories: one paragraph, five sentences or less. Dunno what the formal name is, but as far as I'm concerned: flish fiction.
Here were my three entries. No lj-cut 'cos they are super short.
The child had long since stopped breathing but Mike did not loosen his grip, pushing himself forward at an unrelenting, unforgiving pace, heedless of the uneven, rain-slickened trail. His foot slipped and for a moment he was falling freely, clutching the girl tightly. They struck the ground together, the impact jarring him as she smacked against the rock, pain flaring through him despite the numbing cold. Mike glanced at her broken form and found he could not look away, his gaze moving hopelessly from one injury to the next. At last, he picked up her body gently and began walking slowly towards the city lights twinkling in the distance.
The night after I came out at school, three things were delivered to our garden. The first was manure, maybe half a ton, dumped in a great, stinking, mound on the front lawn. The second was a bunch of headless flowers, clumps of earth still tangled in their roots. The third was a note from Keith, which read: "Sorry my dad's an asshole, hun. Grow me a rose and I promise I'll wear it to the prom."
Tricky fox is quickly running. Sleepy dog is idly sunning. Fox in henhouse, feathers fly. Bird in mouth and gleam in eye. Dog left staring, jaws agape, as hungry fox makes his escape.
Here were my three entries. No lj-cut 'cos they are super short.
The child had long since stopped breathing but Mike did not loosen his grip, pushing himself forward at an unrelenting, unforgiving pace, heedless of the uneven, rain-slickened trail. His foot slipped and for a moment he was falling freely, clutching the girl tightly. They struck the ground together, the impact jarring him as she smacked against the rock, pain flaring through him despite the numbing cold. Mike glanced at her broken form and found he could not look away, his gaze moving hopelessly from one injury to the next. At last, he picked up her body gently and began walking slowly towards the city lights twinkling in the distance.
The night after I came out at school, three things were delivered to our garden. The first was manure, maybe half a ton, dumped in a great, stinking, mound on the front lawn. The second was a bunch of headless flowers, clumps of earth still tangled in their roots. The third was a note from Keith, which read: "Sorry my dad's an asshole, hun. Grow me a rose and I promise I'll wear it to the prom."
Tricky fox is quickly running. Sleepy dog is idly sunning. Fox in henhouse, feathers fly. Bird in mouth and gleam in eye. Dog left staring, jaws agape, as hungry fox makes his escape.