So hot on the heels of Flash! Friday came the latest Janet Reid contest. (Which I managed to pen while completing a 2,000-word story for an anthology.) Our mission: to use the words
in a 100-word flash piece. Mine was title “Evidence.”
An empty can rattles along the road. Gravel scuffles the once-shiny metal as it rolls past an empty snack bag of potato chips.
And a small spiral notebook covered with dots and lines, a piece practiced endlessly in preparation for a violin lesson.
And a shoe, worn when the winning shot fell through the basket.
And a freeway exit sign, crumpled in the median.
And a cell phone, miraculously, still alive, a desperate girlfriend on the other end, screaming.
Then silence falls over the scattered remains of a life that would soon be collected and renamed “evidence.”
So, I'd meant to post this last night; but after scheduling it, I forgot to hit "publish." ThenI learned in the meantime...
There were a lot of great entries. You can see the finalists here. I was especially moved by E. M. Goldberg's story. And completely moved by Janet's words:
So, how many of you read this and said "what the hell, how is THIS a story?"
I'll give you a minute here to re-read and raise your hand.
You're not wrong.
The reason this is a finalist, and not "not a story" is because we the readers fill in the story.
The story is in the negative space. Like the space outlined by the filaments of the spider's web
Incredibly hard to do. It's an epic balancing act: too little and the reader is befuddled, too much and the reader doesn't have enough room to imagine things fully.
This entry is brilliant.Who says Mondays suck?