Mysterious Flash Contest?

[Kaez]

MYSTERIOUS FLASH CONTEST?

Hey, that Halloween flash contest went pretty well, don't you think?
Let's do another one. Keep the ball rolling and the writing flowing.

• The deadline is at the end of the day on Sunday the 12th Reffy gets until Monday morning, James and Jason get until Monday evening, I believe?
• This is a flash fiction contest, so the word limit is 1,000 words or under;
• We're getting MYSTERIOUS this time. Give you story a sprinkling of strange, a whiff of weird, a basting in the bizarre. All things odd, ambiguous, curious, and unexplained!
• The winner will decided by popular vote after the deadline.

[James]

The Crown's Heart
There is a courtroom on a floor that doesn’t exist. I came across it one Friday evening. My mind began to wander well before five and by the time the workday was over, all attentiveness slipped free from my body. The elevator beckoned me with a ding. Walking into its embrace, I stared at the door as it smuggled me to the exit of the court building. Seconds passed. They disappeared, moments that could never return. I paid them no heed. The elevator kept descending. It remained undaunted. A minute went before I realised what was happening, a hook digging in to jolt my stomach.

The elevator stopped immediately. The display, which should only have offered numerals or a B for basement, read ‘The Crown’s Heart’. Staring at the words, my own ticker beating faster, I stepped into the corridor. I didn’t want to stay in that metal box for a moment longer. My hands shook. The corridor was narrow, single file only, and it led to a solitary door. I wish I could explain, could pinpoint, the exact emotion that led me by the hand to that door. Was it fear? Curiosity? Madness? I pushed at the aged wood and entered.

The Court was already sitting. The room was like any other courtroom, a Judge at a bench, lawyers before him. I didn’t recognise any of them. The public gallery was empty. In fact, the entire space was vacant except for the three legal men and the hunchbacked, grey-haired woman almost pecking with her fingers at the stenotype. Any sensible person would have left. Turning, they would have marched back to the elevator. I was British, though. As all four heads turned toward me, embarrassment engulfed me, and I felt I had no choice but to take a seat behind the glass.

As soon as I sat, the Judge inclined his head toward counsel and waited for them to continue.

As a clerk, hours of my days had been whiled away, sitting in court. I knew every method; every strategy and parlour trick off by heart. This was different. The Judge was wearing a red gown, his hair hidden behind an ancient, perhaps sentient at this point, wig. The lawyers wore gowns and bands, occasionally reaching up to scratch their own headdress as well. Those wigs had been consigned to the memory of history, though. Even worse, no matter how ludicrous it seemed, I couldn’t escape the idea that neither counsel knew why they were there. The thought buzzed around me. They would look at each other, wide eyed and pale. Offering platitudes and vague legal principles, they stammered and gripped the desk in front of them. Their knuckles were white.

“This is all very well and good, counsel,” the Judge said, hands together, peering down his nose. “But I do think we are rather merrily skipping away from the point here. What I really want to know is how the Crown should deal with this situation? Should we be adversarial? Should we compromise? Do we conform to rigid precedent or do we allow ourselves a degree of flexibility?”

The hearing continued, glued to those tracks. The Judge asked some question. The lawyers clung to them, flotsam in the churning water. Answers were spun out. They only had so much steam, though, principled answers struggling to stand upright without the framework of an actual case. Even then, it became apparent that the courtroom’s pull was drawing them into conflict. They seemed unable to agree, eager to contradict the other. One man argued for compromise and good faith, the other was like a shark, the aggression in his voice only matched by the concrete walls of his position. The law was the law; if people did not accept that, then they had to be removed.

The Judge put up a hand. Silence poured forth. “That’s quite enough. I’ve been excellently served by your submissions. You are both to be commended.” The lawyers stood a little taller. “Ultimately, though, I accept the viewpoint that these are dangerous times. We must be forceful. We must guard our power. This is no time for weakness. I thank you for your counsel. Guard?”

A door opened to my left. It hadn’t existed a moment before. The security guard that came through it had to stoop low, his head still brushing against the frame. With steady strides, he walked over to the lawyer who had argued for compromise and clamped a hand on his shoulder. He was escorted from the room. His screams stayed a little longer. His opponent put his face in his hands.

“And our interloper,” the Judge said, turning to me. My shirt clung to my clammy, wet skin. It was a mission to breathe. “I’m not quite sure how you arrived here. I dare say you might be appearing in front of me one day. What a wonderful advantage to have. To have witnessed this now. You can leave now, with my blessing and protection.”

Nodding, unable to locate even a single word of respect or gratitude, I marched straight out of the room and down the corridor. It took several attempts to jab at the elevator button with my shaking finger. The metal box welcomed me with that same ding. It opened its door and, this time, led me to the safety of the ground floor. Only after checking that no one was there to see me, did I break out into a run. Tears fell with every step.

The next Monday I returned to work. I lasted an hour before I went looking for the courtroom. It wasn’t there. It never had been. Of course, it hadn’t.

I took the stairs from then on.

[Jenny (Reffy)]

The Bizarre Bazaar

“Jeannette!” The friendly voice cut through the blustery autumn wind. I turned to investigate and immediately felt like I should know the person? He definitely knew me? “How are you doing?” he asked casually.

He had short, brown hair stuffed underneath a blue bobble-hat, scarf to match, and a brown coat that was buttoned up. His hands were stuffed into large pockets, only coming out briefly to hug me before sneaking away again to hide against the cold. I hugged back out of politeness as I tried to piece together who this was, my woollen knitted gloves patting against his back twice as before letting go. “I’m good. You?” the type of answer reserved for those that don’t know me.

“Yeah. It’s been a while, huh?” he smiled, rosy-red cheeks lifting briefly and lips parting to reveal white teeth. He stood closer than a stranger might as I racked my brains trying to remember who he was! A colleague from a previous job? A school friend? Somebody I knew obviously but who? I struggled to keep the confusion from my face; eyebrows were pulling down as my forehead wrinkled with worry. He was starting to notice the lack of connection from my end. “Done anything interesting lately?”

“Went to the Bizarre Bazaar on Saturday,” desperately I filled the gaping connection with small talk. “Susan came with. You remember Susan? The market had a couple of very unusual stalls and food vendors. I tried the churros that were supposed to tasty like feelings but I don’t think it worked? We had a good laugh though.” The question had been me secretly seeking for a hint!

“Of course I remember her. Still with Ben?” he was definitely getting confused. I nodded. Why did he remember Susan and Ben? They’d been a couple for over six years. That meant this stranger and I knew each other recently. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, yes,” I lied. “The Bazaar was very interesting. They had something called a Memory Market. You could purchase a memory from the stall and it cost nothing but a small memory in return.” I persevered with the distraction and to keep him from worrying, though now I was starting to get a little nervous, agitated even? I’d been on the way to do my usual weekly shop. It was starting to get hot in my duffle coat. I eased away my scarf from my throat to breathe. Why was I getting panicked about this stranger and his reaction? Why was this upsetting me? “I purchased a memory of the Grand Canyon and a balloon ride into it. Sounds spoopy but the memory was like I’d really been there! The orange of the rocks, the heat, and dust.”

His expression changed quickly. “What memory did you give them?” his voice sounded strangled.

“Not sure, I don’t remember,” I admitted with an awkward chuckle. How was I supposed to know? I’d given the memory away; it wasn’t mine anymore.

His eyebrows seemed to pinch together to form a little mountain and the corners of his mouth pulled down. It was a weird reaction for somebody that to me was a random acquaintance in the street. It was like a whole layer from around his body sunk inwards like a landslide. He searched my eyes, his crystal blue in the sharp cold air. “Jeanette,” his voice weak with regret. “It’s Charlie.”

“Charlie, who?” I was starting to realise that somehow I’d messed up. It was like somebody had reached into my chest and squeezed the air from my lungs. My heart tried to stop and sped up at the same time. It was like I wanted to cry; like I was frustrated at something.

“I was nothing but a memory for you to toss away on some red rocks and a canyon? That you could visit and make your own memories for?” he sounded heartbroken and angry, grabbing my shoulders with both of his hands as he looked at me. I brought my arms up to keep him at bay. “We had nearly five years together, Jean. Five! That’s not a single memory!”

I couldn’t believe what he was saying! I didn’t want to believe it. The shopping was forgotten about as I turned and ran from the situation and the stranger who sounded awfully like he loved me. I couldn’t bear to hear the pain in his voice or look at his watery eyes! Why did I think it was okay to sell that memory? What memory had I given permission for? Maybe the Bizarre Bazaar had taken the wrong one! And I could get it back? I had to get it back and find out what really happened.

At home I slammed through the front door, dropping my coat and bag in a rush on the floor. My computer was still on as I searched for the Bizarre Bazaar but nothing turned up. Tears poured down my face as I tried in vain, as I searched for different terminology or combinations, or looked for memory issues! The only thing that gave was dementia but I was not losing my marbles. I’d sold one. I’d sold a memory that had been important to me for one that now seemed terribly frivolous.

That night I found I couldn’t eat, couldn’t rest, and my thoughts wouldn’t shut up. I found pictures of us from when we had dated. He looked like a nice man. We looked happy but it was like seeing myself in a play or as an actor. There were no emotions to fall back on or sweet moments to recall. Instead there was an orange sunset and the roar of a burner to keep us afloat in the hot air balloon. I’d sold my sweet memories for a load of hot air.

[Ad Absurdum]

[REDACTED FOR NOW]

[Kaez]

3 Star 2 Moon 9 Sun

in south badlands the boys found a stone this day. On the flat of the stone are markings in many shapes and divided and grouped. the boys told me and I went to see it myself. the colors were cruel to see and the stone was thin and reflective like water. when struck it rang out like thunder. i said to the boys: the smoke might know. the sun was fallen and the spirits were out and the dog barked at the shadows. i said to the boys: we will go to the smoke tomorrow.

3 Star 2 Moon 10 Sun

i took the boys to smoke today. smoke sat upon the hill of the dead water lake and slept standing upright. i called out to him and he did not hear, so i went closer and touched him. when i touched him i saw my mother and remembered her and smoke opened his eyes and laughed and held me. i told him what the boys found in the south badlands and his eyes became solemn like dusk. he said: we will go tomorrow to the stone. for tonight we will share a meal. smoke put a hand to the dry clay and from it sprang fresh greens that entangled our feet and made us wet with dew. we ate of the greens and all grew tired. the boys went to sleep atop the leaves. smoke is standing on the hill.

3 Star 2 Moon 11 Sun

walking to the badlands smoke grew small and faint. we could barely see him. i said: are you okay? smoke said: this is not a place the boys should have gone. we were all quiet until we found the tracks of the boys. we followed the tracks to the stone. smoke was only faint wisps like steam over a pot. i said: can you see it? smoke said: this is the language of the sun-bringers. smoke asked me: record it so that i may study it later.

the language of the stone reads:

THIS IS A MESSAGE. THIS MESSAGE IS IMPORTANT FOR YOU. THIS MESSAGE WAS IMPORTANT TO THOSE WHO WROTE IT. WE HAD GREAT POWER. PAY CLOSE ATTENTION.

THIS IS NOT A GOOD PLACE. WE DO NOT COMMEMORATE A HIGH DEED HERE. WE DO NOT MARK A THING OF VALUE HERE. WE DO NOT ADMIRE THIS PLACE. WE DO NOT ENTER HERE.

WHAT IS HERE IS POWERFUL AND DANGEROUS. ALL OF US AGREE THIS PLACE SHOULD BE AVOIDED. THIS MESSAGE IS A WARNING.

THE DANGER HERE IS BELOW THE GROUND. ITS POWER IN OUR TIME PERSISTS TO YOUR TIME. IF YOU CAN UNDERSTAND THIS MESSAGE THE DANGER HERE HAS NOT LESSENED. THE DANGER IS TO THE WHOLE OF THE BODY OF ANY LIVING THING.

DO NOT DISTURB THIS PLACE. THIS PLACE IS TO BE SHUNNED. WALL IT OFF AND FORBID ENTRY HERE. THERE IS NOTHING HERE FOR YOU BUT DEATH.

3 Star 2 Moon 12 Sun

in the morning smoke was gone. i called out for him to no answer. the boys and i walked in every direction calling. smoke cannot be seen. i said to the boys: smoke had never left the hill over the dead lake. the boys grew nervous. one of them vomited. the other cried and said he could not think. smoke cannot be seen. the boys and i walked in every direction looking for him. i did hold the boys in my arms. the young boy vomited. the sun feels like a near flame on my skin. i am confused. i struggle to write.

i call out for smoke. the dog growls at shadows but then whimpers by my side.

there is something in the sky here. the ground itself a poison.

3 Star 2 Moon 13 Sun

smoke came to me as the sun rose.

he said: i have no answers, only a warning.

leave now.

i could not see much. the sky was a haze. _{i asked smoke: are you all around me? am i within you?}

i could not see the boys. i called out to them and then awoke again. the sky is still dark. the boys are still asleep. dawn is barely breaking. my mind is like

a thundercloud

something loud and violent brews within me. i cannot think.

i write with great trial. i have just awoken. the boys are asleep and cold.

^{i try to wake them. the boys do not wake.}

it is morning. i cannot think well. i think i must leave this place.
i call out for smoke.
i call out for help.

i am all pain. i cannot think. my boys are cold.

if you have found these words: leave.
this is not a good place.

there is nothing here for you but death.

[o ding]

Why are you doing this?

Her shovel sinks into the ground roughly, dirt crumbling apart and tumbling into the chasm below as it’s sliced through. She lifts and pushes forward, sending a mass of earth spiraling down into the abyss, her arms slick with sweat and trembling with nervousness. “Shutup,” she growls through clenched teeth, reaching up to wipe her arm across her wettened forehead, eyes glaring downcast at the hole below as it screams and howls at the nothing above it. A hundred thousand things run through the girl’s mind, all of them ghosts of the thing below, the amalgamation of a hated enemy trying to writhe its way into her life and bones as a parasite feeding on her very essence.

It continues as it typically does for a time, until the earth seems to be silent but for perhaps a faint whisper, almost more of a vibration felt only through the feet, the hole replaced with a discolored patch of what once lay around it. She steps away, the shovel dragging alongside her and leaving behind a lined trail as it tries to dig in and hold her back, her weakened arms not quite strong enough to lift it entirely away. Makeup trails under her darkened, sagging eyes, droplets staining the ground beneath and seeding the path she’d left.

I’m curious what you mean.

“Well, I don’t want to- it’s nothing important, really,” she half-laughs into a hand clasped over her mouth, the other hand reaching up and and rubbing the tears out, her neck craned to the side and locking a phone against her shoulder.

“I told you...I told you I’d take care of things, I’d- I didn’t want there to be anything besides us. You should be...you should be it, for me. So- everyone’s got to live their own-”

I understand.

“Ah...good...good!”

She smiles, stepping into the car she’d been leaning on, arm stretching out for the radio and fingers gently wrapping around the knob to switch it on.

I’m glad you decided to do this. It was sucking you dry. I barely even felt like I knew you anymore.

Closing her eyes, thinking of him, her arms and legs wrapping around him and holding tightly, the music echoing and ricocheting like a bullet back and forth in her skull - “I did this for me, now, and I did it for you, too, you’ll learn on your own, it’s what you need, a separation-”

Vision returns. She’s back where she began, naked atop the grave, arms and legs moving rhythmically along to the sounds, any and all thought receding to the back of her mind as the manic fervor increases in intensity, feet pounding against the top of the floor and drowning out whatever struggling noise might’ve been left. Singing along, her voice is wavering, struggling, a sharp pain moving up her legs but dulling before it ever became too severe. All of her senses dulled, the soles of her feet no longer feeling anything beneath them, the skin of her body not feeling the cold air, even the music fading away from her ears and only repeating endlessly in her thoughts as a faint memory. Cracks start to form in the ground, deep and threatening, emerging as wide, slithering their way viciously towards her, a gaping wound reaching out to pull her in.

“It’ll make both of us better. It’ll make both of us better. It’ll make both of us better,” it mutters mockingly and angrily.

[J.O.N ((Dragonwing))]

A bad day

It had been a week since he had started to suspect that his wife was cheating on him. A week of uncertainty and gut wrenching fear. The noise of the office seemed like a background hum. He was incapable of paying it any attention, his mind was a storm of emotion. He had taken to playing with the shells of pistachios on his desk. Sarah, his wife had never taken to them, saying they tasted awful.

“You sure look sour!”

Ryan glanced up and saw the swarthy and handsome face of his co-worker and close friend. And the man he suspected his wife was cheating with.

“Hey Joe.”

His stomach felt empty and nauseas.

He gave me a questioning look and chuckled. Reaching over he snatched up a few of my pistachios from the bowl I had on my desk.

“You’re doing overtime on your birthday man? You a masochist or something?” He punctured his accusation with a soft chuckle.

“I, uh, yeah I didn’t think much about it. Been thinking about other stuff.”

Joe looked like he was going to say something but stopped himself and an awkward silence hung over us for a brief seconds. It ended when Ryan’s phone began to go off, vibrating loudly on the office desk. Answering it he heard the familiar voice of his wife.

“Hey honey, I'm just outside the office. Is it okay to come in?”

Sweat began to run down Ryan’s back and he began to feel sick in the stomach. He glanced at Joe, he felt like he was going to swallow his tongue.

“uh, sure. Yeah it’s fine.” He replied, his hand gripping the phone tight.

The first sign that Sarah had arrived was the bobbing of her long blonde ponytail. Bouncing along with her as she skipped in, her face lit up in a smile. Her blues eyes locked on to Ryan’s and she gave him a small wave as she dashed over to the two men. Ryan’s heart fluttered weakly and his palms got sweaty as he watched her approach.

As she got closer she noticed Joe and she looked away and she grinned at the sight of him. It was a brief moment, but noticing it made Ryan’s heart dropped in to the abyss. The rest of the conversation became faint and muddled.

“Oh hey Joe! I was going to call you later about those, uh, questions I had.”

“Questions?” Ryan heard himself ask. He saw Sarah glance at Joe who stumbled a reply.

“Yeah she wanted my advice on some stuff to do with the garden, right?”

“Yeah,” she responded, “I was having some trouble with the roses and Joe said he knew some things that could help me.”

Another awkward silence.

“Anyway! I came by to drop off a snack for you since you said you’d be working late and to make sure you won't be home until seven tonight.”

Ryan took the lunch box, looking in and seeing a sandwich.

“Thanks, and yeah I won’t be home until seven, sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Sarah said with a cheery smile “I think I can keep myself preoccupied until then!” She glanced at Joe again and the two seemed to share something unsaid. She then said goodbye to Ryan and bounced out of the office.

“Well I got to get going to man, happy birthday and all, I’ll see you later.” As Ryan’s made his exit, he scooped up a couple more nuts and walked off, to Ryan’s eyes, it seemed he was following Sarah out.

An hour passed and Ryan felt an intense rage well up in him. An anger that screamed for him to take his computer and smash it to the ground. Why Joe? Well obviously it was Joe, even he could tell that Joe was a handsome guy. But wasn’t he, her husband, good enough for her?

He felt angry, lost. The distance had grown between them since a week ago. The way she and Joe seemed to spend time together away from him, why? Did they do it to just spite him?

He couldn’t stay in his cubicle and let it happen though. He had to confront her.

Soon he found himself dashing from his chair and striding out of the office and to his car. He had no idea what he was going to do or what he was going to say. He just knew he couldn’t let himself sit at work knowing that the two closest people in his life had chosen to ruin him.

Cars and street lights flashed past him. Lights and sounds that added to the roar in his mind. Turning on to his street he saw his white American dream house at the end of his street. Driving past parked cars he approached his driveway and saw the black BMW parked in his driveway. Joe’s car.

Making his way to his front door his hand hesitated over his doorknob. Behind the door he heard furious whispering and what sounded like sudden frantic movement. Throwing the door open he stepped in to the dark of his house. Looking around the foyer he saw the door to the living room open.

“Sarah?” He called out, his voice cracking.

He stepped across the threshold and suddenly his world went white with light and noise.

“Surprise!”

There was the crack of party poppers and a banner saying happy birthday hung from the ceiling. Under it was a group of ten or so people. Friends and co-workers, at the centre was Sarah and Joe, each of them with a shit eating grin.

Hurrying over to him Sarah gave him a hug. He felt her slim arms around him, automatically his own lifted up to embrace her.

“Why did you come back so early?! You almost caught us!” She clung to him as Joe walked over.

“Happy birthday!” He shouted tousling Ryan’s hair.

Was this all it was? The strange meet up of Sarah and Joe? Their knowing looks? Had this all been a mistake on his part. Emotions of anger fought and wrestled with those of shock. He felt himself wanting to scream in confusion and rage. To lash out and relieve himself of any thoughts of betrayal. He fought them down as he looked in to those blue eyes, calming himself. He had to, for her.


Ryan’s mind was cast a drift in to chaos as he lent down and kissed Sarah, the taste of Pistachio’s on her lips.

[Kaez]

JAMES

I've read this four times and I still don't know what it's about. My theory is that the courtroom is the heart of the court itself, the sort of ideological or abstract moral duty of the court made physical, and that the questions the judge is asking have to do with the role of the court in society and the degree to which its rulings reinforce its own authority. The idea being that the two counsels are both sort of in the midst of moral predicaments making arguments across time and space with their predecessors.

But that's such a fucking shot in the dark. To be honest, I have no clue what's going on here - but the prose is consistent and easy to follow and accessible. At no point am I confused as to the events or their nature - only the meaning of them. And that's a pretty solid foundation for a mystery. While I do wish that there was something more of a clue for me to cling onto here, I do nevertheless feel a bit like it's my fault for not understanding it, not yours.

REFFY

First, a few critiques: I think early on it could've used less lines of 'I couldn't remember who he was!' and more straight emphasis on her attempts to remember. No need to restate the obvious - it just clogs up space that could be spent showing instead of telling. The transition to the Bizarre Bazaar Memory Market was a little on-the-nose and sort of revealed the whole plot there and then. And the mystery at the end is... whether the Market ever existed? Surely it did, but where did it go? It doesn't seem possible for us to know the answer to that, nor the answer to the motivations of the Market in stealing such a large memory.

I actually really like your prose here. I like the character drama - I like the interaction, the emotions, the tragedy. I think it's very well written and an absolute breeze, it flows really well. You've got a knack for flash fiction for sure. What's lacking for me is the mystery itself - it's not clear what the mystery is, or, of the unanswered questions, how we could possibly come to understand their answers with what's provided.

SAM

Well this is just really, really good. I spent about 45 minutes just now reading and re-reading this entry over and over, scanning and prying for clues. Hell, it makes me want to do a whole whodunit competition, because this is just a marvelously fun story to read and explore and play with. I made two guesses - my first guess was very close to correct and I was able to pull out the red herrings - and then, with a slight tweak to my approach, I got it correct on the second attempt. By all accounts I'd call that a mystery well-done and, to emphasize this point: this is a very compelling and well-written whodunit in LESS THAN 1,000 WORDS.

Completely impressed.

But no sushi mermaids 1/10 try again next time kid

SCHRO

She... kills a part of herself... to please someone else... but it's not going to work out after all? It's a metaphor for changing to please other people? Or for dealing with mental illness? I... I really don't know. This story is obscure as fuck. But you know that. I'd really like to know what you see it being symbolic of, because there's no way it's not symbolic of something, right? But I don't know what. Like James', I would've appreciated just a little more in the way of hints or nudges at what your intentions might've been so that, after several reads (I read this four times as well) I could feel like I was making some progress with it. But here I didn't feel that way, really.

That said, I really liked the prose itself. You can write really well when you decide to sit down and actually do it.

JASON

Woah! The double-twist! The first twist there was fairly predictable, I'll say. You built the tension up in such a way that it was like, "The only thing I know for sure won't be happening is that they're not having an affair." And then the second twist comes in outta nowhere! And it *is* mysterious because... I... I don't entirely know what the twist is. Does she taste of pistachios because she *is* cheating on him? Or is it just indicative of the fact that she's not a truthful person? If she is cheating on him, is the party just a cover for that? None of this is at all clear, but the story ends on a wonderful cliffhanger that is genuinely mysterious and leaves me wanting to hear the rest of this story. Well done.

1st Place - Sam, 3 Points
2nd Place - Jason, 2 Points
3rd Place - James, 1 Point

[Ad Absurdum]

James

This is good, but I feel the writing and tone abstracts from the absurdity you try and present and it puts the focus too much on the nature of the proceedings, which are rather pedestrian standard court stuff (which is fine), rather than the absurdity of the crux they’re trying to argue. Chipping off some of the narrator descriptions and replacing them with actual dialogue and principled babble and qualifiers from the poor judges, who are in more of a confused and terrified state than even our narrator it seems–perhaps doing the story from their perspective would have been interesting, although of course maybe unfeasible in a flash–would have showcased the pure oddity of this event. As such, the narrator was left quite unnerved, but I was left merely curious.

Reffy


The concept here Is great, a more fantastical turn of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (excellent movie). I think the execution of the mystery falters a bit, though. Your character already makes assumptions about the stranger in the first paragraph when I feel it should be something both the character and the reader should come to organically. When the character is one step ahead of the reader in this circumstance, it means a lot of the exposition comes off as very tell-y, which leaves us little chance to bite into the mystery ourselves. We’re left playing narrative catch up, when it’s better to be pondering alongside the character.

I still love the tragic element of this. There’s a great deal of melancholy on the concept itself, and the idea of trading a memory of someone for something superficial is quite alarming, but no doubt pertinent in this modern age, when there’s a lot of aesthetic grandstanding on Instagram and the like. I’d love for this whole thing to be a longer story.

Sam

IT WAS OBAMA

Pete

I like this a lot. Even if you don’t fully comprehend what is happening, there is a certain ominousness to it and when you do comprehend it, it only feels more sickening. The narrative style and prose here isn’t obnoxiously distracting but only adds to the unfortunate naivety of the characters and helps them feel more tragic. The date system was a nice touch as well.

Overall, no complaints. Great job.

Schro

Probably the most mysteriously mysterious of the stories, for better or worse.

What’s good is that it’s well written. I enjoy the prose a lot. It’s also quite….hard to get a sense of what it’s really about. The best I can assume is mental illness. I don’t mind that’s obtuse to an extent, but it seems that there’s a twist at the end. The original voice now becomes malicious. But it’s hard to illicit any sort of reaction from me when I don’t have a chance to properly figure it out.

Still, well written.

Jason


I love when the last line of a story is like a knife that comes to the gut just as you thought you’re embracing a friend. The whole narrative was fairly simple, yet it benefitted from the anticipation of what Ryan may do when he arrived home–although I also figured there may be a first twist. But the predictability of the first actually may help the second, lead the reader into a lull of relief, a false easing of the tension.


Pete: 3

Jason: 2

James: 1

[James]

Reffy
I really liked the central story here. The idea of trading memories, the fleeting nature of what is real to a person, the tragic turn, what’s left unsaid by the fact that the narrator did trade that memory for something flippant. That’s all gold. I really enjoyed it once I got to the end and it all came together.

I think my main point of concern is everything was very direct. Everything is so very clearly set out: I don’t remember this guy, there’s this memory market, “it’s me, Charlie.” There’s no real subtly in the execution of the story. It was still a good story, but I think if everything was hinted at instead of spelt out, that might have made it a great story.

Sam
So, we can talk about the writing if we so wished. On the whole, it is excellent, only occasionally stepping over that purple line you sometime toy with. But ultimately, the writing is only secondary to what is a very innovative and, most of all, fun whodunnit. You’ve made the story interactive and it elevates the material. I had a lot of fun pondering the motives and suspects.

Finally, everything checked out. The fact that I, somewhat tentatively, managed to pick the murderer, motive and the second victim all on my first go (sorry, Pete) means that the clues were all really well set out. Just an excellent job. 

Pete
I’m not really sure what I can say here. I really enjoyed this piece. There’s a tone, a feeling that sinks through the entire thing and I just really liked it. I’m not sure if -all- of the formatting trickery was necessary, but on the whole, this is just a cool, unsettling story.

Schro
I thought I wrote a very opaque story without much hint of resolution, but you’ve taken it to another level. I can’t really say much. It’s well-written. The mystery of what is going on, and the imagery makes the story sticks in the mind. But I’m still not entirely sure what the story was saying. Still, an interesting, well-written piece.

Jason
Nailed it. You’re really knocking these flash fiction pieces out of the park. The writing is a bit messy on occasions, but I’m not going to hold that against you for this type of competition. And this story, mainly, is condensed entirely into that final line. I appreciate how everything else is a set up for it: the suspicion, the detail about pistachios, the first, obvious twist. Just really well done.



SAM - THREE POINTS

PETE - TWO POINTS

JASON - ONE POINT

[J.O.N ((Dragonwing))]

James

Solid writing that helps invoke the sense of weirdness that is the courtroom. The writing also helps put me in the shoes of your protagonist as a fish out of water character in this moment. However the story itself seems to lack something that interests me. Outside of the strangeness of the situation there isn’t anything in the narrative to keep my interested.

Reffy

You have a solid story here. I loved the idea of this woman selling away a memory of an ex for a memory of some vacation. It’s very anti – materialistic in its execution. Unfortunately this feels like a story hampered by the shortness of the story, we don’t really have time to get to know either of the characters and that seems to be an important part of the story. The Bizarre itself also takes a background role when I think its even better to relish in the idea of it.

Sam

Awesome story. Pete’s already mentioned how amazing it is you managed to write a well put together whodunit within 1000 words, but I still need to congratulate you on that. You also managed to give Swan a unique voice even though she only dominates a small part of the story, the rest treated more as a recounting of a sequence of events. You also painted a fascinating and strange world. So overall well done.

Pete

I liked the premise of this story. You presented the post apocalyptic world nicely without hitting the reader over the head with it. While the reader can probably still understand what is going on here, they are still left with a sense of mystery, especially with the nature of smoke. The ending didn’t feel like it appropriately fit the rest of the story with its weird style. I can see what you were going for, but it came across as out of place. It also didn’t really accomplish drawing me in, I felt rather removed from the story.

Schro

Definitely an odd one. I reckon you could interpret what’s happening here in a number of ways, you were pretty light on the details. You’ve written a tormented character rather well, in my opinion, and you create a sense of foreboding around her actions that lead to a rather odd and disturbing ending. There isn’t really any particular resolution though, although I feel like that is intentional, but the ambiguity does come across as a little frustrating.

Sam – 3 points
James – 2 points
Schro – 1 point

[The Counter Cultist(Sawyer)]

James

This story kinda left me wanting more. It was well written. The prose, as always, is sharp. And it's definitely a very interesting story. But god dammit I want more. I want to know what you(yeah, I'm just absolutely convinced that this actually happened to you btw) stumbled into this one unfortunate day. All in all a great story that could have benefited from a longer word limit.

Reffy

Like James' I can't help but feel that this one could have benefited from a little more. Again its a well crafted story, but there's just some missing pieces. Pete also hit the nail on the head before me on focusing on more on her actual attempts to remember. Honestly, I can't help but think it would've been better if it occurred during the actual Bizarre visit. Great work, but misses a few marks.

Sam

So first off, kudos on having the balls to take the prompt 'mysterious' and do an actual mystery. Second off, hooo boy I'm a little boy reading about the adventures of Hercule Poirot again. Seriously well done on doing this in under a thousand words. Just for that accomplishment I think its up there as one of the best pieces you've written. Well done and keep up the good work. And for the record I haven't guessed at it yet, but once I do you'll have my guess.

Pete

Gawd Damn, I am shaking. The style of writing was well executed and the story itself was very good. I'm a sucker for log entry style writing like this. Where you're essentially reading the last journal entries of somebody, like say a dwarf that dug too deeply and greedily. Excellent Work.

Schro

Sooooo, I guess like Pete's I don't have much to say on this one. Your character was well written definitely, but there's just not a lot for me to say on it. I did like it, but felt it ended up being overshadowed by a few of the other pieces. Keep it up though, if we do another one of these I'd like to see what else you've got cooking up in there.

Jason

Damn man, that last line. Completely floored me. Like Pete said in his own review, that first twist felt like it was the whole thing. And it kinda upset me a little bit because it does come of as a bit cliche. But Jeeeeeeesus Christ did you subvert all expectations there. Good work.


Scores

Pete: 3 points
Sam: 2 points
Jason: 1 point

[J.O.N ((Dragonwing))]

Nov 22, 2017 3:32:19 GMT -5 Jenny (Reffy) said:

[Placeholder] ... back from holiday and intending to review! I didn't forget you guys!

We were thinking of doing another one soon, so keep an eye out for that. A few of us a really enjoying doing these.

[Jenny (Reffy)]

James
I feel like the pacing was off at the start. It is very fast paced when I feel it should be quite slow and languid. Elevators are rarely exciting. I also wished we’d gotten a true pinpoint on the emotions when the elevator stopped so get a good grip on how the person felt – how we should feel along with them. Otherwise it feels a bit: this and that. Is a pity we didn’t find out the context of the courtroom, which I suspect you left hidden for the sake of mystery but the mystery itself was how you found the courtroom in the first place and where it was?

Jenny
Give up, girl! You are no longer the Queen of Flash.

Sam
[Redacted? Buggerit! Sorry I have been so delayed on this! Life’s a bit manic. Happy to review if you PM it to me, if you want, though it would only be comments about content and not much else.]

Pete
Interesting, confusing, and compelling? But ultimately I am not sure what was going on here? It feels more like poetry than a story. Curious on why he kept going, especially if it was killing him and the boys? Though I liked the conveyed caring and worry about the boys. I really felt I could connect to that part of the story. I realise the lack of punctuation was a decision but it hurt my dyslexic brain? Definitely leaves a lot to mystery of what is going on and what is killing them.

Ding-a-ling!
Is very purple prose. Pretty but uses up a lot of space in a flash piece. Also not sure what happened here either? I thought she was digging her own grave at first but then it went a little bit devil and sucked her in? Feel like I missed something or tripped out. Definitely a mystery and also brings up questions about who she is, who she was talking to, what part the speaker played in the little game, etc.

Jason
Ohmyword! Loved it. The feeling at the start and as you let it casually sort of build and then the reveal and that last line. I couldn’t possibly love this more than I already do. Wonderful. You caught the pettiness perfectly and the way the mind would trip over itself. Even the set up with the pistachio and Sarah not liking them at the start. Genius.

Jason: 3 points
Ding-a-ling: 2 points
Pete: 1 points