Tag Archive | AmyBeth Inverness

Flash! Friday # 30 — WINNERS!

We were talking in the comments this round about how stories rising from the same prompt sometimes echo each other in concept or theme. But one of the things I love best about these sorts of contests is where they then diverge. Getting to know your unique characters, hearing the distinct voices of your writing emerge–it is a great pleasure and privilege each week. Thanks to each of you for being such an awesome part of the flash community!


Judge Jaz Draper says, When I saw this week’s prompt I thought, Holy Stonehenge! What are our talented writers going to come up with? I stared at the prompt long and hard and got nothing. But you, my fine feathered writing friends, did not disappoint! Giants! Princesses! Soldiers! And, of course, dragons for Rebekah! As always, you make it as challenging to judge as it is to write flash fiction. Well done, one and all! 



Aria Glazki, “Hidden Treasures.” Of all the dragon stories this week, this one struck a chord: a friendly, protective dragon. Sweet! 

Curtis Perry, “Questions and Answers.” The Princess and the Pea! –No, wait, the princess has to eat her peas! 🙂 Clever dialogue between mom and daughter, and quite believable.

AmyBeth Inverness, “Mortar.” I really like this piece. The last sentence is the perfect way to sum up Jophina’s uneasiness and the conviction that the planet had been inhabited by life and that Nature was not responsible for the structures she was seeing.


Craig Anderson, “Beside the Sea.” Having written poetry myself in the distant past, I appreciate the huge amount of work it takes to incorporate story in rhyming verse! This work was just lovely.


Brianne Barkley, “Imagine.” You captured palpable fear :spasms of shivers:  :teeth clicking together madly:   :just keep it together: …I imagine her imagination was in overdrive, and I do think my own heart was racing a wee bit! Really well conceived and executed.

And our Flash! Friday second time 



for “From the Rubble.”  I really love the pace of this piece and the measured dialogue. I could feel the angst of Scientist and the hubris of Soldier anticipating his medal. You had me assuming one thing and turned me on my head with the hive/queen twist. Wonderfully crafted from start to (ominous) finish; marvelous characters; overall creative and well-written.

Congratulations, Whitney, and welcome back to the dais! Here are your updated Winner’s Page, your familiar yet stunningly crafted eBadge (below), and your winning Tale. Please keep an eye on your inbox for another round of sparkly questions for next Wednesday’s Sixty Seconds feature.

From the Rubble

“We smoked ‘em!”

Scientist’s complexion was gangrenous, his eyes, pale. He swallowed. Trembling like a drunken veteran, Scientist eased himself to the ground. He vomited.

“Man up. You act like it’s the first time you’ve seen anything die.”

Scientist steadied himself.

“The calculations were off.”


“We didn’t accurately measure the bomb’s capabilities.”

“Big deal. Instead of just smoking the bitches out, we destroyed ‘em!”

Mentally, Soldier noted how proud Sergeant would be. Scientist shook his head in disbelief, pulling his hair and pacing.

“Oh, come on, you woman. They invaded our planet. It serves them right!”

“This wasn’t an ordinary settlement.”

Soldier lit a cigarette, uninterested, thinking instead of the medal certainly coming.

“This is their hive.”

Soldier grunted.

“As in, where the Queen would nest.”

“So, we killed ‘er too. Mission accomplished.”

The ground began to shudder, the rubble tinkling like glassware in the middle of a quake. In the distance, she reared her head, stinger glistening in the late afternoon sun, eyes gold and alert, the movement of her wings blowing the shore into funnels.

“Their hive?”

The strange insect clicked. Bee-like-but-still-humanoid creatures responded, surfacing by the hundreds. The Queen’s stinger pulsed. She clicked. Hauntingly, the others joined.

“What now?”

Scientist and Soldier’s spine prickled.

“We run.”


Flash! Friday # 22 — WINNERS!

Curious timing, I find, that the week before Mothers’ Day so many writers killed off their beloved mothers for this week’s prompt, or turned their mothers into splendiferous aliens. We did see our share of dystopian tales, gigantic apocalypses which stopped us in time and wrenched our hearts out. Magnificent writing, everyone–and a big huge HOWDY to the new folks! 

As always, please check back Monday to see which of your stories will be highlighted at Flash Points, and join me Tuesday for Dragon Munchies and my own wee tale. Wednesday will feature an interview with today’s winner. And new stories will pop up throughout the week. Check back often! 


Judge Beth Peterson says, Just like the prompt, golden light spilled across this week’s Flash! Friday’s entries. You all make it tough on a judge! I commend you all, each and every one!



AmyBeth InvernessUntitled, for the sheer fun of a unique dragon propellant

Alissa Leonard“Sunrise of a New World,” ’cause we have all had to grab our parents’ attention like that somewhere along the line. 


Betsy StreeterUntitled, and Maggie Duncan, “The Damascus Road,” came in neck and neck hard on the heels of the winning tale. Both are very poignant, solid and complete stories although they are very different tales. Loved them both 

And first-time winner (these-monsters-look-awfully-familiar)



for “Winter’s Refuge.” This story really pulled me in; the sights, the sounds (especially of the snow crunching under the boots) and the wash of the heat from the open oven… all contributed to a very well-written, immersive story. The reader-driven probability of a misdirect gave this slice of life story and added boost of pleasure.

Congratulations, Aria! Here are your Winner’s Page, your eBadge (below), and your winning Tale. Please contact me asap with your email address  so I can interview you for Wednesday’s “Sixty Seconds” feature.

Winter’s Refuge

Shadowed figures plodded toward her, silhouetted against the setting sun. They blended together into one undefined mass, then separated into two distinct lumps – one half the size of the other – and congealed again, morphing with each movement.

Lacey let her book drift to her lap as she watched the slow progression through the steam around her cottage. The kitchen timer sounded, calling her away from the mesmerizing sight so that dinner wouldn’t burn.

A steady crunching accompanied the sounds of lasagna being pulled out of the oven and set on the counter. They were getting closer. Lacey left the oven open so its heat flooded the small kitchen and adjacent living room.

The crunching grew louder then suddenly stopped. Lacey’s head swiveled to watch the front door open, revealing two looming lumps. She dropped the oven mitts.

The smaller shape barreled toward her, shedding white powder all over the wooden floor.