Wednesday, January 14, 2009
So I have been entering writing contests lately with mixed results. Some stories, I know going in that it does not deserve to win, that I have handicapped them in some way. Time or subject constraints can damper the creative process more than you know. But some stories, a select few, feel really good. These stories almost write themselves, molding themselves to the subject and word count of the contest.
I wrote the following story a few months ago for a flash fiction contest. The story had to be 100 words or less and the theme was “Under the Bed”. 100 words are not a lot, most people use more than that to order lunch.
I loved my little story. Friends and family loved my little story. The judges however, did not.
Here it is for you to decide.
She could ignore the music, low and tinny sounding to her little girl ears; some form of disco-punk she would never listen to if she had a choice. And she barely noticed the thumping on the underside of her mattress anymore, but the rotating streams of light shooting out from under the bed were a little much. Another dust bunny party, the third one this week. She pulled the pillow over her ears, but somehow the sound made it through…and those bits of light were driving her crazy. Where the heck did they find a disco ball that small anyway?