In Guiana, a little known country north of the equator, there lived a family of five, in a recently established housing scheme for the low–income bracket. The head of the family, David Anderson, was pacing the living room; as usual, searching for a means to keep the family fed, when he heard someone calling at the gate. Before David could get to one of the front windows he heard his son, Kwame, speaking to the person. As he’d been meandering in that direction, his mind recorded that his wife, Holly, was close to a window; yet she did not look out and answer.
“Good morning to you, sir. How may I help you?” he heard Kwame say.
The visitor looked about, confused. He was a graying, official type carrying a briefcase and obviously thinking himself much more important than he was. The man eventually glanced up, and saw Kwame sitting on a branch of the mango tree growing next to the gate. He also saw, by the look of alarm on his face, three or four wasp nests in the tree.
“Good morning, my boy. Aren’t you afraid those wasps will sting you?”
“No, I learned to share the tree with them. They help keep the tree in fruit throughout the year, so we let them stay. My name is Kwame Anderson. What is your name, and why are you here?”
Contest Judge Laurie Scavo Brilliant Flash Fiction
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FIRST PRIZE WINNER
Stairs to the Beach
By Jessica Knauss
Josie had the tunnel-staircase built because the children were fed up with the clifftop ocean view and no easy way to get to the beach below. To the children’s uproarious approval, I proposed a slide, so they could zip down onto the soft shore and get all their energy out swimming, building sandcastles, and trying to run on the tractionless surface of the sand. Then they would have to walk a mile or so around the cliff, back to the house, and I wouldn’t hear a peep out of them the rest of the day, I was sure. I could practice the viola or watch films that weren’t oriented toward children whenever I wanted.
But Josie insisted on the stairs to avoid long stretches of time when she couldn’t see her adopted dependents. In the beginning, it worked fairly well. All ten children loved hiking down the tunnel to be greeted by their own private piece of ocean, and by the time they trudged back up several hundred risers, all the sand had been knocked out of their crevices, so Roxanne didn’t have to do much cleanup in the foyer. But once they’d had time to tone their legs and exercise their lungs, they were shooting up that long staircase so fast, the sand had no time to dry, much less to let go of their sticky skin and sopping hair. Continue reading “PHOTO PROMPT – CONTEST RESULTS”→
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written on the theme of EQUALITY
Word limit: 300 Deadline: JUNE 15, 2015
Submissions: email to firstname.lastname@example.org
Judge: LIZ NUGENT, Author of Unravelling Oliver liznugent.ie
Prizes: 50 euro first prize (or equivalent amount in your currency)
25 euro second prize * 15 euro third prize Winning stories will be published in Brilliant Flash Fiction.