Flash Fiction / Rorschach’s Claret
She awoke in stages, clinging to the unconscious as if by sheer force of will she could render it manifest reality. The vibrations emanating from the bedside table disturbed her grip. What? Who is this?
The dream that she had been so determined to prolong, already forgotten, lost. Born away from the neverwill on the current of the neverwas. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she switched the phone from ear to ear.
It’s me. Sorry to wake you.
Are you?
Diagonal beams of dust and pollen cut through the defenseless window blinds, graduating the wall with metric precision.
I’ll call back later.
She flipped the phone closed and one hopped it into a molehill of noisome laundry. She closed her eyes anew, one last obligatory resistance to the surging phalanx of the new day. Rising from bed, defeated, naked and half dazed, she shuffled across the hall to begin the morning ritual. She turned the faucet and let the cold water run until the flow turned an acceptable sepia. Cupping her hands in benediction, she drew the liquid to her mouth, washing down the taste of cotton and the night before. Only then did she look in the mirror. It could be worse, she said, as she looked over a collage of paunch, breast, bruise and bone. Could be a full sized mirror.
Filling a small pitcher, she went back to her bedroom and set to her coffee. She had half the grounds needed for a proper cup, so added on top of what was left of yesterday’s perk. Putting on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt that read “Animal Keeps the Beat,” she dialed back the number. What did you need?
It’s almost noon.
Morning’s a relative concept as far as I’m concerned.
I need you to pick me up.
How’s it feel to need? She said as she collected the clothes and some change for the machines
Are you serious right now?
What time.
Soon, I need to get to the notary before 2 o’clock.
Let me get some of this wash in and I’ll be over.
She tied her hair back with a rubber band, knowing it be hell to dislodge later, and went to use the bathroom a second time. Sitting down, she noticed congruent patches of dried blood on the insides of both thighs. Swabbing herself, off she went to assay the corollary effects on the bed sheets. Removing the comforter, she saw a Rorschach’s blot of deep claret. What do you see? She remembered some therapist on some Tv show ask some dysfunctional child.
A butterfly. They all looked like butterflies. The more ornate, Snowflakes maybe.
One more fucking thing I have to deal with today.
She bundled up the soiled linens and buried them in the middle of the laundry basket. She walked down into the basement, threw everything in the washer, not bothering to separate. She walked back upstairs and brought her cup of coffee with her to the shower. The washer bucked under its unbalanced load.
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“The shower was already running, the community mirror glazed in fog. She turned the faucet and let the water run.” This sentence sounds as if she turns a faucet that is already on. Try mentioning that there is more that one.
Dialog: Who is speaking, and to whom?
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So, wait – since this is ‘flash fiction’, does that mean that’s it, that’s the whole story? Hmm…I just assumed that you had a story in your head and this was tied in somehow; I didn’t even notice the flash fiction part at first. Anyway – I liked it, as it was well written and very descriptive. Personally, I liked your wording, although I’m not sure it is reasonable (that’s not the word I’m looking for, sorry) for a general public. Of course, if you are not looking to appeal simply to the masses, and are going for a specific group of readers, it totally works. All in all, well done, and I wish there were more so I could find out what kind of crazy night caused her to wake up in such a state!
Needs formatting. The out late, drunk, kind of theme is a little overused. However, saying that, I thought it was o.k.
For me this flash fiction was well written, great termonology and steady and nice flow.
the big thing that bothered me was the point of this. it’s hazy and unclear which im sure was your intention but i think if your going to try and add to this, try and make a memorable point, even if its a misleading point.
other than that its a good piece.
The imagery was great in this piece, very descriptive. I felt like I was there, a fly on the wall in the room, watching everything as it unfolded. There was one sentence that seemed incomplete to me. “Next to the ashtray, a mustard box of condoms, half-torn and gaping.” Maybe if you added “stood” after “condoms” it would sound better (in my humble opinion). But overall this story was a fantastic read, and I think you give writers such as myself something to aspire to. Keep up the great work, and thank you for sharing!
I really enjoyed this piece. Your writing is excellent. A little verbose perhaps, but who am I to judge. I have no advice at all so I will just say you have won another fan!
It’s good. A little long for Flash Fiction, and leaves a few too many questions open. Was the blood due to her monthly or loss of virginity, or something else entirely. who is this group? Who was on the phone.
I’m wondering if this would be better expanded and dubbed a short story. Because as is you have introduced too many things that need explaining. Flash Fiction is short, concise, beginning middle end. And I think you didn’t quite hit that mark. Although I commend your efforts, flash fiction is difficult to accomplish.
This is pretty fantastic, leaves me wanting more. The details are so exact, and the mood you paint is rather haunting. Most of my commentary has to do with minor details, more about the language than the story itself. Like the last paragraph, I would start with she, or something about grabbing a towel or how she did it. The sentence just seems bland as it is. ANother line: knowing it to be hell to dislodge later…I think this could be said more eloquently, like knowing it would be hell to untangle later. The other thing that struck me was one-hopping the phone across the room. As in it bounced off the floor. Do people do this? Wouldn’t the phone break? One more line I think could be finessed a little is “washing deep down the taste of cotton and the night before.” Maybe it’s just a matter of taking out the word deep, I dunno, but it seems a little odd to me. There’s some great stuff in here though, like the maybe-was and the adolescent holdover, and the symbolism that comes in at the end with the unbalanced load. I could really see more pieces being developed after this, scattered scenes that eventually piece together into a larger story. Thanks for the read.
This is really good writing, especially the obvious care you’ve given to finding strong verbs and meaningful details to give this life.
You’ve got a fine, tight writing style, with no wasted words. You know how to show rather than tell. This is a textbook example of how to show-not-tell, in fact.
I’m not quite sure if this works as a free-standing piece. You’ve given us a scene of what to me feels like a larger story. The protagonist obviously has some issues that go beyond waking up hung over and trying to piece together the previous night’s events.
My only suggestion is to find a good proof reader. Typos/grammos are easy to fix, so that’s a minor concern (though not minor when you submit for publication). The most important part – knowing how to tell a story, and show us your characters – you’ve got that down cold. This is one of the better pieces I’ve read here.
entertaining read. ”..knowing it (would) be hell..” you’ve grabbed me with your character, you might use this for something longer.
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