FLASH FICTION WINNER

At the beginning of September the search was on to find a winning piece of flash fiction. The subject matter was left open, the only limitation being the author’s imagination and a maximum word count of 300. There were almost seventy entries by close of play on Friday 2nd October, which far exceeded my expectations.

The quality was extremely high. The stories covered nightmares, sporting disasters, sunbathing (with a twist), horror and romance; and all in just 300 words! Before announcing the winner I would like to give a special mention to two excellent entries.

Andrew Rossiter (www.coffeepercolator.wordpress.com) submitted “The Call”. It used short, punchy sentence structure to inject pace and tension. The result was an edgy and dramatic story that I enjoyed enormously.

With a story of hide and seek, Poites (www.poietes.wordpress.com) submitted “Child’s Play” that used a mixture of dialogue and action to great effect. There was a sense of ambiguity throughout, and the twist at the end leaves the reader fearing the worst.

However, it is time to unveil the winner. It is “Her Winning Smile” written by Dawna Rand (The Writer’s Saga). Be warned, the story deals with an adult theme so if you are of a timid disposition, look away. For the rest of you, the story is a snapshot of a working woman. She seems to be in control. She sounds tough. But then again, what price is she paying? Read on, and enjoy…

HER WINNING SMILE BY DAWNA RAND 

She smiled winningly, hoping the darkness concealed her boredom. She leaned towards him.  “Wanna dance?” she chirped over the din.

            He nodded briefly, avoiding her eyes.

Fuck yeah. Just gimme money, asshole.

                The song’s throbbing onslaught began, rattling the barstool on which she thrust her 6-inch heel. She wriggled out of her dress. He’d agreed – so why act sexy now?

                She wadded the dress into a handful. She plopped in his lap and ground industriously against an unimpressive boner.

                The bass pounded. She shifted.  Her eyes scanned the faceless crowd. Another one. Dressed nice. Drinking alone. He’ll spend.

                She turned so only her left cheek was working.. Asshole gripped her hips, focusing on her gyrations. She yawned and propped herself against the mirrored wall. Still grinding, she preened. Yeah, I’m still hot. Not as young as some bitches, though…

Need another wig soon. This one’s ratty. Assholes grabbing it…

Rent… car… babysitter…

 Lazy-ass husband…now the wig…

Shit. Always something…

She continued her calculations, equations interrupted only by a fading song. Or screeching DJ. That bastard makes a thousand a night. Doesn’t have to fight handsy assholes, either. Fucker.

“Do you work after hours?” Asshole rasped to her tits.

Fuck off. You don’t even have money for dances. She shook out her dress. “I only work here.”  She wriggled into the abbreviated spandex.

He nodded, still avoiding her eyes. Which suited her fine. He handed her a crumpled bill.

She glanced down. Yeah, a twenty. Better not stiff me, asshole.

“Thanks, baby,” she called, forgetting him. She strode off. Her feet were killing her. But she had to keep hustling. Because you really do get what you pay for.

Only… who paid? And for what? In rare, quiet moments she wondered. She targeted the next loser . And she smiled winningly.