I entered a Flash Fiction contest today over at Flash Fiction Chronicles. It was a really fun mental exercise.The rules for this contest were that you had to use at least four of the words I’ve listed below to write a story of 250 words or less.
I’m thinking about using something like this in my Composition class this week. I think my students would really enjoy it…well, as much as they enjoy writing anything. If you’re interested in entering the contest, the guidelines can be found HERE. Below, is the story I submitted!
Angel hated her house. She hated its green shutters. She hated the peeling, red paint on the door. She hated the brown of the dead grass in the yard at wintertime. Most of all, Angel hated the rock quarry behind her house.
The quarry killed children.
Nobody believed her. Nobody believed her about the how. The newspapers said they had drowned, but those children hadn’t drowned.
The quarry had taken them.
Two weeks ago they had gone, a boy and a girl, during the last minutes of evening to the quarry. Angel had watched them as they walked hand-in-hand towards the entrance. How delighted they’d been as the water soaked their skin! How they’d splashed and giggled!
But they began to feel sleepy. The quarry rocked them back and forth, back and forth, back and forth until their eyes closed and the frigid blanket covered them.
Angel screamed. She pounded on the shutters, and she kicked the door. It was no use. The children couldn’t hear her. The children couldn’t see her.
“What a shame,” the papers said. They placed their pictures beside the other children the quarry had taken. Over the years pictures grew a little older. A little faded.
Angel’s picture was oldest of all. Taken the day the shutters were new and the paint was fresh and the grass was green. The day the quarry had called to her during those last minutes of evening. The last day she could remember ever leaving her house.