The Writers’ Platform Building Campaign, hosted by Rach Writes, is cool way for writers and active bloggers to reach out and network with other like-minded people, thus building our own platforms and helping others to build theirs. The Campaign runs from August 22nd to October 31st and will include three Campaigner Challenges, the first of which is TODAY! Here are the parameters for Campaign Challenge #1:
Write a short story/flash fiction story in 200 words or less, excluding the title. It can be in any format, including a poem. Begin the story with the words, “The door swung open…” These four words will be included in the word count. If you want to give yourself an added challenge (optional), use the same beginning words and end with the words: “…the door swung shut.” (also included in the word count). For those who want an even greater challenge, make your story 200 words EXACTLY!
First thought: OH MY GOD I’VE NEVER WRITTEN FLASH FICTION IN MY LIFE! Second thought: TWO-HUNDRED WORDS? CAN’T BE *THAT* HARD.
Two hours later (two!), and I’ve come up with exactly two-hundred words of flash fiction. Holy crap–writing in past-tense is such a challenge! So is characterization within such a tiny word count. I’m, like, really nervous about posting this, but here’s my best effort, entitled Last Kiss…
The door swung open. He was there like I knew he would be, searing eyes and rain-soaked hair. He didn’t speak—he’d always been better at quiet—but he reached for my hands and pulled me forward like he owned me.
He did—I’d been his since the day we met.
I let my cheek fall against his shoulder and inhaled his soap-and-spice scent, soaking up a million memories with rain that fell relentlessly from the slate sky. His t-shirt was drenched and then so was mine, but I didn’t care. I’d never cared about the consequences of being with him. I craved his strength and weight and intensity.
His breath was heavy, ragged, when his cobalt eyes locked on mine. The moment unfolded, stretching into eternity. I foraged for words to make him stay, but they were elusive. Always elusive.
His wet hands were slippery on my face. His mouth found mine, raw, insistent, tasting of regret. Breathing was suddenly impossible. I gripped his t-shirt, kissed him back, but the ache of loss was inevitable.
“I’ll miss this,” he said when he’d had enough.
He pushed me back into the house. My heart shattered as the door swung shut.
Like my flash fiction? Want to read Challenge #1 entries from other Campaigners? Pop on over to Rach Writes to check out the list of participants. 🙂