Flash Fiction – Week 3. This week’s prompt was “He said; She said.” The goal was to write a story under 500 words entirely through dialog between a man and a woman.
He said, “What a view!”
She said, “It’s lovely. Come and sit here.”
“You look familiar. Do I know you?”
“Yes – it’s been a long time.”
“Did we work together?”
“I don’t think we dated…I’d remember.”
“You’re right. You certainly would.”
“Go to school together? College classes?”
“Oh, longer ago than that.”
“You’re getting closer.”
“You look so … you remind me of… “
“It’s strange… I was going to say – my mother.”
“Everyone always said that.”
“That I looked like Mom and you looked liked Dad.”
“But – You’re dead!”
“I am. Guess what that makes you?”
“Oh, God…I’m dead?”
“You were way too sleepy to drive.”
“Oh no! Did I hurt anyone else?”
“No, you were very considerate. You frightened the squirrels and birds that were in the tree, but they’re okay.”
“Is everyone sad?”
“No one knows yet. Just me. But I’m sure everyone will miss you. You’re a good person, Frankie.”
“That’s not what Linda said.”
“Divorce means nothing. Living is such a lonely job; it’s a miracle anyone can stay together.”
“How would you know, Carrie? You were eight years old. And sick most of the time.”
“Sick people notice everything, Frankie.”
“Wait. I’m thinking about you being eight. How come you’re not still eight? Do we continue to age? Like, is Abraham Lincoln like 200 years old?”
“Ha! You should see Shakespeare! No, seriously. you can be whatever you want.”
“And you wanted to grow up?”
“Not so much that. I wanted to tell you all kinds of things. Be your sister for more than eight years. So I didn’t want to be a grownup as much as I wanted to talk to you. If I were eight and you were forty-five, I think we’d run out of conversation pretty quickly.”
“Could you be eight again after?”
“Sure. We can be eight and ten. We can talk about bicycles and Saturday cartoons.”
“Both of us? We’re free to do that?”
“We’re free to do anything. There’s no greater freedom than being dead.”
“So what did you want to talk about?”
“About Mom & Dad. How after I died, they had so much grief they used up all the air. It consumed them. They didn’t leave much room for you.”
“No, they didn’t.”
“When I disappeared, I made you disappear too.”
“I lost everybody. But especially you.”
“I wasn’t too sleepy to drive. I was too drunk to drive.”
- Posted in: Writing
- Tagged: dialog, fiction, Flash Fiction, Short Story, story
Good one! Several twists – love that!
Kudos Nancy! This is brilliant.
That was fantastic!
I have no such imagination, but I sure appreciate yours.
Good story. Interesting.
Well done. I’ve seen this challenge before but never executed quite so brilliantly!
Sad… and hopeful. Great story, well done.
Excellent! I do hope you submit this somewhere for publication…
This one hit me right in the tear ducts. OK. It started other places but the tear ducts is where it ended up. I’ll be spending the rest of the day thinking of everyone I would like to talk to once more and what age I will be when I do.
Great and something to ponder today
Nancy, What an ending … You are a brilliant writer …I could read your stories for hours … Love, Donna