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Flash Fiction / Without the Bumpers
It’s his first time without them.
You can tell that he’s uncertain,
tentative, and even a little scared.
“My mom and sister like to leave them in,”
he says to me
as he stares at where the bumpers should be.
“I’ll probably throw gutter balls all day.”
I could hear the resignation in his young voice.
Better to expect failure than to be surprised,
I was sure that was what he was thinking.
“I’ll bet you won’t,” I say
hoping that my optimism would spill out from me
and that after getting his feet soaked in it,
he might begin to believe in himself.
“Let’s just see what happens.”
So he walks slowly
and intently
to the lane ahead,
the orange ball clasped before him
like an offering to the ten write druids
standing still and in formation fifty feet away.
He pauses.
He takes a breath.
And he rolls.
The ball is straight.
The roll is true.
The white pins scatter.
He lingers for an almost imperceptible moment,
and then he turns.
He smiles at me
victorious,
the absence of bumpers long forgotten.
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JTstories reviewed Version 2 -
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So is this fiction or autobiographical in nature? I understand it was inspired by your bowling trip with your brother, but this is listed as fiction. I am curious to know if your own brother did as well on his first attempt. I guess the story was engaging because of my interest. I think you could expand a bit on the child overcoming his need for the bumpers, only because I’m not sure he would ‘forget’ the bumpers, so much as recognize he no longer wants or needs them.
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AstroBoyJ7 reviewed Version 2 -
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I liked the imagery in this piece. I was also impressed with how well you made the transition from intimidating and potentially bad to a great experience. This makes it a very solid read and makes you really feel happy the kid and for his sitter.
Blankness reviewed Version 2 -
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Very heartwarming. My favorite line was probably,
“I’ll bet you won’t,” I say
hoping that my optimism would spill out from me
and that after getting his feet soaked in it,
he might begin to believe in himself.”
I liked that description of “getting his feet soaked in it.”
The story really touches that insecurity we all felt when doing something for the first time, like bowling without the bumpers, or taking the training wheels off our bikes.
But in the end it usually turns out for the best.
Good job capturing that, and good job to your brother.
RoadHousePress reviewed Version 2 -
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why is this flash fiction if it’s about your brother and you? why would he say “my mom and sister?” why not “mom and sis” since it is your mother and sister too? I am sure you meant ten white druids.. but you wrote ten write druids.. and I am not sure why you called the pins druids?
Fix those little items and place in poetry and you will have an enjoyable poem.
runnerchick2 reviewed Version 2 -
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This is really good. I took my 5 year old brother bowling..he just throws it really. but i love the dictions, druids, scatter, imperceptible, all amazing. I like how you said he is expecting failure..sounds like alot of adults more than children.
Rupert reviewed Version 1 -
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This does not read as poetry, as I can read no structure in it, but it does read like a very well put together piece of flash fiction. I wold reformat it and repost it as a short story. Theres a beggining, middle and end as well as a conclusion.
as he stares and where the bumpers should be: And should be changed before you resubmit. Always be careful to edit for grammar, syntax and other nitpicky errors before posting a piece.
evath reviewed Version 1 -
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In order to use less credits to review,
I try to be direct, which sometimes comes off
as harsh. I assure you it is not intended to be:
In my opinion, this didn’t read like poetry.
It lacked poetic flow and structure and reads
more like short-story narrative.
Nothing wrong with that.
Perhaps the story also begs to be told!!!
To make it more poetic -
rid the piece of many extraneous words
that add nothing at all to the telling.
Even in short-story writing it is more
powerful for the writer to
SHOW, rather than tell.
Example:
the following is an example of the many
places this piece sounds like short story…
After a few careful edits, and cuts
this could be rendered into a poem:
“I could hear the resignation in his young voice.
Better to expect failure than to be surprised,
I was sure that was what he was thinking.”
One suggestion might be:
“Resignation in his young voice;
He might’ve been thinking:
‘easier to expect failure
than be surprised by success.’
I’m not attempting to re-write your piece, merely
suggesting point how this piece might be made stronger
through less transitional ‘verbiage’ and more
direct images. --- More powerful that way.
I do love the story line and think
it could be a lovely look
at bowling through a child’s eyes!
Good luck,
E~
jweeble reviewed Version 1 -
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This is excellent, even in rough form. I would take out the capitals on the front of each line and only cap the start of each sentence. “Like an offering to the ten [white] druids”, and maybe use pins instead of druids the second time. Very well done.
Jimmel104 reviewed Version 1 -
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I think you could have done more with this.
Having raised a couple of sons this event is a bit like getting the first bike, taking the training wheels off of the bike or putting on the first roller skates.
Most kids have some serious reservations about these event and react accordingly, though different depending on the personality. I would have liked to have read a bit more about what the youngster was thinking.
Then I would have liked to have heard what Dad was thinking or at least some descriptive imagery about what was going on in each of them.
If I remember right, neither of my sons rolled anything near a straght and true ball and one almost quit over it. LOL
I like the story line. It is fairly fresh. I don’t think I have read too much with bowling as the venue. Believe you just need to work it some more.
jaugne reviewed Version 1 -
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This is a wonderful glimpse into the fears and triumphs of childhood. I like the adult narrator, the way you unfold this through her (your?) eyes. Too much poetry is ode to the vertical pronoun (I).
Nice job. Kudos.
J.B.
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