THANKS, everybody, for braving blizzards (and, sigh, blue skies) to play at Flash! Friday. I LOVE all the directions you took our young man; even those of you who went with the actor/theater idea stuffed your stories with creativity. Awesome work.
** Your usual reminder that if you’ve got a minute and haven’t read or commented on yesterday’s stories yet, please do so–feedback is even better than jalapenos, and that’s saying something.
THANKS also to our dapper judge Dan Radmacher for his thoughtful work and fine decision-making.
Beth Peterson (@PotterBeth). First out of the gate, you captured the dedication, desperation and despair of a performer on the edge. I wanted to know if he succeeded or failed, and the price he paid after.
Betsy Streeter (@Betsystreeter) Your story was descriptive and honest and sweet.
Robin Abess (@Angelique_Rider) Zombies are just this close to being overdone, but you painted such a vivid portrait and had such a nice surprise ending, I had to at least give it a mention.
RUNNER UP: This was, I’ll admit, my favorite going into the final stretch, and I wasn’t sure anyone could top it:
Miranda Kate (@PurpleQueenNL) Your story was vivid, compact, emotional and left me wanting to know so much more about the relationship you depicted. An interesting thing: I didn’t know what kind of performance you were describing. Was it a dramatic reading? A song? One player’s part in a play? And why the horror when he recognized the narrator? So many questions. So well done.
and…. our SMOKIN’ HOT WINNER….
CURTIS PERRY!! (@ctperry744)
HUGE CONGRATULATIONS to Curtis! Curtis, pick up your eMedal below and flash it with pride! Here is your own Flash! Friday winner’s page and your fiery winning tale:
Art for Art’s Sake
“I am alone, but I am never alone!” he shouted.
“alone…” the room said softly.
“The world is a crowded and busy place! Everybody talks, but nobody says anything! And nobody’s listening anyway!” he yelled.
“anyway…” whispered the room.
He pranced and danced, twirling and waving his arms to emphasize his anger.
“The world is crowded, but everyone is alone! No eye contact, no real intimacy! No one understands!” he screamed.
“stands…” the room repeated back.
He yelled wordlessly as he started flinging paint at the wall behind the stage. He stomped and threw brushes and screamed at his work. He kicked paint cans, colors splashing, cans crashing.
“I am nobody and I am everybody!” he cried, fist high in the air. “I am nothing and I am everything!”
“thing…” the room gently echoed back.
When his piece was done, he stood on the stage, breathing heavily, sweat and rage draining out of him. He stood in the spotlight, with his back to his art, looking out into the empty room.
“Art for art’s sake.” He said, too softly for an echo. “Art for an audience of one. An audience of none.”
One last act of self-expression, just before he walked out the door.
The lighting of a match.