Precipice

[Christian Soldier]

The following is the first Flash fiction I've ever written...and was happy with. Enjoy!

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I stood on the brink. Before me was the precipice, the drop, almost sure death that way. Below me I could see little ants moving about their business, unaware of me standing here in my pain and turmoil.

Behind me lay safety, home, comfort. It would have been so easy to turn around and go back. Just a few simple steps, but NO! I will make that step, take the plunge, take the chance! I take a deep breath, gathering my will, my courage. Just one step! I step forward, off the curb and onto the waiting school bus.

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I submitted it to Everyday fiction...and they didn't like it because I "lied" to my readers...I prefer misdirected, thank you. That's all I'll say on this subject(Pet peeve alert!)

[sparrow]

I like this. And I've seen such "misdirection" before. It lends a kind of impact to the common experience that might escape us otherwise. After all new experiences CAN feel overwhelming. I wouldn't use it in a large work of fiction but in something of this size, I think it works. It might also work in an opening of a larger work if it was follwed by the character trying to speak common sense to himself such as: "Of course I was overreacting but then with what I had to face when I arrived at school, who wouldn't overreact?" Used in this fashion you would have a great opeing hook.

I would say, though, watch your tenses.

[Christian Soldier]

Thanks!

[strangewind]

I've written a little FF that's seen publication, and I like the direction of this. When I write it, I aim for exactly 100 words, because that lends an artificial structure that makes every word count. Its amazing what this has done for me.

Misdirection happens all the time in FF, but there is a fine line between misdirection and cheating. If there are any other phrases or terms you can use in the beginning of the story that suggest school, but ONLY after the reader has read the whole story, that might get it closer to where you want it to be.

This is a well-written piece. In my humble and quite probably useless opinion, it is only missing another level of story to be perfect.

It might be easier if I just dissect one of my FFs to show what I mean:

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TRANSIENT ISCHEMIC ATTACK

He thought it might be a stroke when he scrutinized the faces of everyone else in line. It was a blockbuster, the kind that keeps you out of showers, off beaches, or away from Catholics for a very long time. The faces blanched like the cloud of witnesses that judged him every time he left Dagmar back at the farm so he could go to the movies.

His wife cared not a bit for P.T.'s weekly visits to the theater, his cigars, nor his addiction to Coca-Cola. So he sat down, deciding right then to get rid of all three.

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This is a story that, at first, reads like a worried old farmer waiting in line at the movies in the late 1970s. "A blockbuster...out of showers, off beaches, away from Catholics" could refer to a number of popular horror movies that might be similar to the one he is going to.

It isn't until the end that it is confirmed that the old man is having a stroke (thus, the title of the story) and then you realize that the "blockbuster" definitely also refers to the clot causing the attack, and that its effects will "keep him away from showers, off beaches and away from Catholics" if he survives.

There's also the suggestion that there is tension between his wife and he over his movie-going, probably a religious tension, and that he's going to have to give up movies, cigars and soda, or is Dagmar one of the three things?

There's several things going on: his theater going may be an idol, or his wife may be legalistic, the stroke may seem like judgment to him, and in fact, it might be. It underscores a threat to his marriage, a need for change, and a possibility of hope.

The key to FF is that you need to try to absolutely PACK the sucker with story, until it is bursting. Leave clues early, so that it can build on itself and say more than seems possible in the restricted time. I'm partial to 100 words, but most places list flash as anything between 50 and 500 words. The principle of storypacking applies to any length.

Hope that helps. I really think you've got a good one on your hands. I'd just like a few more levels to the narrative (but no more words!).

By the way, the story, though slightly fictionalized and dramatized, is based on a true event from my childhood involving an old family friend.

[pixydust]

I stood on the brink. Before me was the precipice, the drop, almost sure death that way. Below me I could see little ants moving about their business, unaware of me standing here in my pain and turmoil.

Behind me lay safety, home, comfort. It would have been so easy to turn around and go back. Just a few simple steps, but NO! I will make that step, take the plunge, take the chance! I take a deep breath, gathering my will, my courage. Just one step! I step forward, off the curb and onto the waiting school bus.

When you write a small bit like this it is so hard to get that umph. Each word has to be chosen like diamonds, and must reflect the image, the story, bright and insistent to work. This sort of piece is the hardest to write. The shorter the harder it gets.

I think it's a fun comparison. The trouble I see is that you refer to a precipice. I'm going to immediately see him looking over a cliff. Then you refer to ants. My image changed to him on a sky-scraper roof, watching people and referring to them as ants, when actually he was referring to real aunts. A bit confusing. I would suggest making things more concrete. Being vague in this short a piece can have a negative effect.

Hope this helps a little in case you ever want to try and resub anywhere.

Here's an example from one of my flashes:

The sound of waves crashing against the nearby cliffs grew louder with each step. The misty air was thick with salt. He could taste it on his tongue.

“Sarah!” he cried. “Sarah, please! Hear me!”

He glimpsed a shadow in the mist, the flick of a skirt.

“It’s so close, my love,” came her voice, muffled in the fog.

Then he saw her, running towards the cliff’s edge, towards the sea. Sudden panic welled up in him.

“I’m so glad you’ve come.”

Bran’s throat closed as he watched her skid to a stop at the ledge, a giggle bubbling from her lips. Her feet knocked sand and rocks over into the black depths of the abyss below, where the sea churned in violent anticipation.

“Sarah! Stop!” he called.

She turned back with a smile that painted her features sinister in the shadows of the moonlight.

“Oh, Bran,” she said. “How you love me. Like a bird in a cage.” Then she flung her arms wide and spun on her heel.

“Come away, Sarah.” It came out as only a breath. His heart beat so hard it shook his chest. He reached for her. Terror blinded him. What had he done? His beautiful Sarah, he should never have brought her back to the sea. How could he have not seen this? Why had he not been more careful?

Sarah froze and hovered over the lip. Her body wavered. Her hair hung down like strings of amber seaweed, damp from the misty air.

“You know I can fly,” she said. “The waves are my wings. I could teach you.” He heard a smile in her words and it sent chills across his skin. She seemed to stop and listen. “Bran? Can you hear it? The stirring. They sing to me even now.”

“Please,” he whispered. But he could move no closer to take hold of her. Even as she teetered over the edge, even as her foot left its purchase, he stood frozen, arms outstretched.

Her skirts billowed, snapping with the sudden rush of air as she disappeared. The sound of the waves below grew deafening. A gull cried in the distance, or perhaps the cry was his own.

He fell to his knees, crawling to the edge, clutching at the mossy cliff. Below, all was churning darkness. He watched the foam stir around the jagged rocks, waiting for a glimpse of his love.

This is a much longer piece than yours (more than is here--1000wds all-together). But it took me a year to get it right enough to be published. Each word has to be important. And the shorter you go the harder it gets. that's why my shortest piece is only 800wds. I can't get the shorter ones to work.

[Christian Soldier]

Thanks for the input! I've never been good with deeper meanings and hidden truths; though, I am getting better.

[strangewind]

You're naturally gifted with deeper meanings and hidden truth - the FF you wrote demonstrates that. It just could use an extra layer. You already know the art of concealment and the power of words, just over lay a little more of it on what you already have.

And don't misunderstand me at all. I like the story, but I have a pretty good feeling that it isn't very far from me loving it. If you get a chance to monkey with it, post a revision.