Flash Fiction, Queer Style

Nothing is more refreshing and satisfying than an overcast Sunday dedicated to reading. There's something about those looming grey skies that induces the need to brew some tea and settle down with a new novel or a collection of poetry.

I would argue there is no bliss sweeter than disappearing into another world and intertwining yourself with an exciting narrative. But hey, I know I'm a little bit biased what with that degree in English hanging on my wall...

This weekend, I have thrown myself into the tight, breathless, electric world of Flash Fiction and all its subgenres. I've known about this form since about 2005, but I realize now that my knowledge was superficial at best.

Oh, Flash Fiction? Yeah, those are the stories written in 100 words, right?

I had assumed that. Oh, so naive. Turns out the 100 word maximum is just the beginning.

There's short-short, sudden, postcard, minute, furious, fast, quick, skinny, smoke-long, and micro fiction. There's 55 Fiction, 100 Word Drabbles, 69ers (the word limit, not the... position), and more. Some argue the absolute maximum is 75 words while others are lenient and view 1,000 words as the limit.

It's enough to make a writer's head spin.

I was assigned this research assignment by the writing group I belong to. Ladies in Writing is experimenting with its format a touch and we're trying to lure our peripheral members back with this informal lessons. I am the first to take on the task of teaching, hence all the notes on this genre. I have to say, though, as a writer, this form offers an amazing opportunity to render meandering prose to its most basic and vital elements. I love how quickly a story can materialize and I'm sure readers appreciate the abrupt nature of the narrative. Both sides are left satisfied -- the writer feels accomplished and polished, the reader finds an intense and condensed story to delve into during the spare hours of their day.

Mutual, creative fulfillment -- none too shabby.

For this Sunday, I will leave you all with a flash fiction I wrote back in 2005 for an alternative magazine published at our campus. Similar to the poem Efflorescence, this was published for their annual Queer Issue (coinciding with October's Queer Identities Week). Hope you enjoy and I hope you have an excellent Sunday evening, ladies.

***

The Dandelion

*Published in 2005.

We were only seven-years-old.

We sat in a field of prickly grass dotted with the brightest dandelions I had ever seen. My new skirt was already stained green at the hem. My friend thought it looked better that way. She picked a dandelion by her ankle and held it beneath my chin.

"If your chin turns yellow, it means you eat a lot of butter."

My skin stayed pink. I did the same for her and her face lit up. The flower left a yellow smudge that stained her for a whole week, much to her mother's chagrin.

That was the day I fell in love with her.