Blog Mon, 11 Mar 2024 08:49:29 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://reflexfiction.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/cropped-4851468-32x32.png Blog 32 32 Rules http://reflexfiction.com/flash-fiction-competition-rules/ http://reflexfiction.com/flash-fiction-competition-rules/#respond Mon, 11 Mar 2024 08:46:18 +0000 http://reflexfiction.com/?p=77 Please read the rules carefully before submitting your entry via the entry form. Entries not complying with the competition rules may be disqualified. Eligibility Format Submission Payment Determination of Winners Winning Entries Copyright The information given in these Rules is correct; however, Reflex Fiction reserves the right to change any of the above without prior notice.

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Please read the rules carefully before submitting your entry via the entry form. Entries not complying with the competition rules may be disqualified.

Eligibility

  1. Entrants must be 16 years or over on the closing date.
  2. Entries must be in English.
  3. Entries must be the work of the entrant and must not have been published or accepted for publication elsewhere in print or online including blogs or personal websites.
  4. Entries must be fiction but can be on any subject, and written in any style or form. We do not recommend poems and stories written for children.
  5. Please, no fan fiction or use of copyrighted material, characters, song lyrics etc.
  6. The flash fiction competition is international and welcomes entrants from all countries.
  7. Simultaneous submissions are accepted but please let us know if your entry wins a prize or is published elsewhere so we can withdraw your entry. Entry fees will not be refunded.

Format

  1. Entries must be at least 180 words but no more than 360 words. Titles are not included in the word count. All word counts will be checked at wordcounter.net. Entries with fewer than 180 words or more than 360 words will be disqualified.
  2. Entries must be anonymous and must not include your name, address, email, telephone number or any other personal information. Entries that include personal information will be disqualified.
  3. Entries will only be accepted in the following formats: Microsoft Word Document (.doc or .docx), OpenDocument Text (.odt), Rich Text Format (.rtf), and Text Document (.txt).
  4. Please think of our readers: use a legible font and size.
  5. The filename of your entry should be the same as your title. We like titles, but if you want to submit an untitled entry, use the first five words of your entry as the filename.

Submission

  1. Entries should be made via the online entry form.
  2. Authors may make corrections to their entry up to the closing date of the round. Please resubmit the entry via the entry form and enter ‘Corrected version of [ Title]’ in story title box.
  3. We reserve the right to correct spelling and punctuation before publishing. Any significant edits will be checked with the author before publication.
  4. Entries must be received before midnight UK time at the end of the closing date shown on the schedule page.
  5. Entries missing the deadline will roll over to the next flash fiction competition.
  6. There is no limit to the number of entries an entrant may make.
  7. Multiple entries should be submitted separately.
  8. If you supply a link to your personal website or social media profile etc., and your entry is published on the website, your link will be published with your entry. We reserve the right not to publish links that are not directly relevant to entrants or their writing or that we deem to be inappropriate.
  9. Entries will be acknowledged by email autoresponder.
  10. Please check your email address carefully before submitting your entry.
  11. If you do not receive a confirmation email (don’t forget to check your spam) please contact us via the contact page.
  12. Entrants are responsible for completing the submission process correctly and alerting us to any problems they encounter. Reflex Fiction accepts no liability for entries not received due to a failure on the part of the entrant to follow the submission process correctly.

Payment

  1. The standard entry fee is £7. Discounts are available for multiple entries.
  2. Entries, including discounted entries, do not expire. You can buy now and use in future rounds of the competition.
  3. Payment is through PayPal only, but you do not need a PayPal account to enter. If you do not have a PayPal account, and do not want to create one, you can checkout as a guest using your debit or credit card.
  4. Entries must be accompanied by the email address used for the PayPal transaction so we can cross-check our records: your story will not be read if you haven’t paid the fee.
  5. No refunds will be given.

Determination of Winners

  1. All entries are read and scored anonymously by members of the Reflex Fiction team.
  2. Entries are judged and scored on five criteria: Subject, Story, Character, Language, and Technical.
  3. Approximately fifty entries will be selected to form the long-list.
  4. Long-listed entries will be read by an independent judge who will select the third, second, and first place entries.
  5. The judge’s decision is final and no correspondence will be entered into.

Winning Entries

  1. The prizes for the current flash fiction competition can be found on the schedule page.
  2. Long-listed titles and author names will be announced on the Reflex Fiction website one month after the closing date.
  3. First, second, and third placed entries will be published on the Reflex Fiction website four months after the closing date.
  4. Between the announcement of the long-list and publication of the winning entries, we will publish one non-winning entry each day. These will include entries that made the long-list and entries that didn’t. We will only publish non-winning entries where permission to do so was given by the author.
  5. If your entry is long-listed and you gave us permission to publish your entry, it will be published on the website.
  6. If your entry is not long-listed and you gave us permission to publish your entry, it may still be published on the website between the announcement of the long-list and publication of the winners.
  7. Winning authors will be contacted regarding their prizes as soon as practicable after publication of the winning stories.

Copyright

  1. Worldwide copyright of each entry remains with the author; however, the winners of the first, second, and third place prizes grant Reflex Fiction:
    • the right to publish their entry before anyone else in print or online.
    • non-exclusive rights to their entry, including the right to display their entry indefinitely on the Reflex Fiction website and the right to include their entry in an anthology.
  2. Entrants who give Reflex Fiction permission to publish their entry even if they do not win a prize, grant Reflex Fiction:
    • the right to publish their entry before anyone else in print or online.
    • non-exclusive rights to their entry, including the right to display their entry indefinitely on the Reflex Fiction website and the right to include their entry in an anthology.
  3. Where an entrant gives Reflex Fiction permission to publish their entry even if they do not win a prize, and their entry is not published on the Reflex Fiction website, all rights revert back to the entrant.

The information given in these Rules is correct; however, Reflex Fiction reserves the right to change any of the above without prior notice.

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My Father Comforts Me in the Form of Birds http://reflexfiction.com/my-father-comforts-me-in-the-form-of-birds-flash-fiction-by-sharon-telfer/ http://reflexfiction.com/my-father-comforts-me-in-the-form-of-birds-flash-fiction-by-sharon-telfer/#respond Mon, 11 Mar 2024 08:41:49 +0000 http://reflexfiction.com/?p=75 SPRING 2018 FIRST PLACE HeronThe December tarmac’s glazing treacherous black. My mind should be on the road, not with my mother, left in the echoing house. I take the roundabout too fast. There it is, standing guard. I’ve never seen one here. No water, only frozen fields. Sentinel grey, crunched into its awkward bones, those […]

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SPRING 2018 FIRST PLACE

Heron
The December tarmac’s glazing treacherous black. My mind should be on the road, not with my mother, left in the echoing house.

I take the roundabout too fast.

There it is, standing guard. I’ve never seen one here. No water, only frozen fields. Sentinel grey, crunched into its awkward bones, those quilling eyebrows. Unmistakable.

I hear his voice.

“Hamba gashle.”

“What’s that, Dad?”

“It’s Zulu. It means…”

I whisper it back as the light fades.

“…Go safely.”

I flip the visor against the falling sun.

Pheasant
We startle them into clattering flight. Survivors, seeing the New Year in against the odds.

One stays grounded, escorts us like a maverick sheepdog hitching a walk.

That look. “Dad?” Joking.

It stops. Its feathers glint rainbows in the iced light.

That sideways look. “Is that you, Dad?” Half-joking.

The absurd lens of grief.

Sparrowhawk?
Hard to tell. We pass so quickly.

Roadside perch. Sharp eyes scanning.

“What do I always say?”

“Keep your options open, Dad.”

Robin
On a clear day you can see the hills he loved from here.

This is not a clear day.

Every voice feels winter-stopped.

In the branches, a spot of red, defiant.

“The robin keeps singing right through the winter.”

Its sweet strain clarifies the clouded air.

“Very few birds do that, you know.”

The mist begins to lift, a little.

Goldfinch
The feeders have swung empty for months. We knock the nails in lower so Mum can reach, refill them with rich sunflower hearts.

“They’re back!”

From the kitchen window we watch a charm of gold glitter the garden.

Curlew
Spring loops in on that cool, clear call, back to breed on the hard, high moors.

“That day we found a nest, remember? The baby curlew? The parent bird circling overhead?”

The wind lifts heady scent from the greening woods, scatters blossom like confetti, accepts the ash we offer.

Skylark
You hear it first, notes like diamonds etching glass.

Lift your head. Turn your face to the full sun.

“Look long enough, you will see it.”

There, infinitesimal in the infinite blue.

Do you see him?

Yes! There! Rising, singing, rising…

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About Reflex Fiction http://reflexfiction.com/flash-fiction/ http://reflexfiction.com/flash-fiction/#respond Mon, 11 Mar 2024 08:37:23 +0000 http://reflexfiction.com/?p=73 Welcome to Reflex Fiction, a quarterly international flash fiction competition for stories between 180 and 360 words run by independent publisher, Reflex Press. We are always open for entries, operate a choose your own entry fee system, and offer generous cash prizes to our competition winners: Winner: £1,200Second: £600Third: £300Fourth: £150(or the equivalent in your […]

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Welcome to Reflex Fiction, a quarterly international flash fiction competition for stories between 180 and 360 words run by independent publisher, Reflex Press.

We are always open for entries, operate a choose your own entry fee system, and offer generous cash prizes to our competition winners:

Winner: £1,200
Second: £600
Third: £300
Fourth: £150
(or the equivalent in your local currency)
Entry fee: Choose your own!

For the Spring 2021 competition, we’re delighted to have Women’s Prize For Fiction 2019 longlistee Sophie van Llewyn as judge.

Reflex Flash Fiction Mission Statement

When the Reflex Fiction team were discussing how best we could serve the flash fiction community, we came up with two potential models:

  1. Increasing exposure of flash fiction with an open-submissions website where we publish a great piece of flash fiction every day.
  2. Allowing flash fiction writers to earn real money from their writing with a pay-to-enter flash fiction competition.

What did we decide? Both, of course!

Reflex Fiction is a traditional flash fiction competition where entries are read and judged, a long-list created, winners selected, and prizes awarded. It is also a place to share and read fantastic flash fiction.

How Does Reflex Fiction Work?

After the stories have been judged, and we’ve announced the long-list, we’ll publish one story each day as we count down to the publication of the third, second, and first placed stories.

Because the Reflex Fiction team are all flash fiction writers too, we know how difficult it can be to let go of a great piece of flash without placing in a competition. That’s why you can opt out of the open-submissions element of Reflex Fiction when you submit your story. Of course, we hope you’ll take part.

All long-listed stories where permission was given by the author will be published on the website. We’ll also publish some of our favourite stories that didn’t quite make the long-list. You can check the website daily at noon to see if your story has been published, or if you’re still in the running for a prize!

If having your story read, appreciated, and commented on by your fellow flash writers is not enough, we’ll also publish a relevant link of your choice with your story. This can be to your personal website or blog, social media profile, Amazon author page, published story etc. So long as it’s relevant to you, and we consider it appropriate for our readers, we’ll publish it with your story, increasing the exposure of you and your writing.

Flash Fiction Anthology

All long-listed entrants are offered the chance to be published in our yearly print anthology. All you have to do is tick the permission box when you enter your story. If your story is long-listed and published on our website, it will also be published in the print anthology. All featured authors will receive one free copy. Anthologies are published in April after the winners of the Winter contest have been announced.

  • Barely Casting a Shadow – Reflex Fiction Volume One
  • The Real Jazz Baby – Reflex Fiction Volume Two
  • A Girl’s Guide to Fly Fishing – Reflex Fiction Volume Three

Reflex Fiction Schedule

Reflex Fiction is always open for entries and we are always counting down to the winner of a previous competition. Check our schedule page for the important dates for all live competitions.

To keep up to date with the latest Reflex Fiction competition you can subscribe by email to receive notifications when deadlines are looming, new competitions are open, long-lists are announced, and winners are published.

What Is This Thing Called Flash Fiction?

Flash fiction is a style of fiction defined by its brevity. While there is no single definition of flash fiction, an upper word limit of one thousand words is generally accepted. Here at Reflex Fiction, we like our flash on the short side. That’s why we’ve set a word limit of between 180 and 360 words for our competition. Why a lower limit? While we love very short fiction (For sale: baby shoes, never worn and all that), it’s very difficult to judge a six-word story against a 360-word story; they are two different animals.

If you’re new to flash fiction or are looking to improve your flash writing, there’s no better way to learn than reading and writing as much flash fiction as you can! To satisfy your flash reading requirements, we publish a new story on our website every day. You could also take a look at the writing tips we’ve compiled from some aficionados of the form. You can access all the stories we’ve published online via our story and author archive pages.

Reflex Fiction People

Reflex Fiction is organised by professional editor and amateur writer, David Borrowdale.

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How to Write Flash Fiction http://reflexfiction.com/how-to-write-flash-fiction/ http://reflexfiction.com/how-to-write-flash-fiction/#respond Mon, 11 Mar 2024 08:34:25 +0000 http://reflexfiction.com/?p=71 If you want to know how to write flash fiction, read some advice compiled from aficionados of this most versatile of forms. Let your title do some of the work, but don’t give away the story resolution with it either. Thirteen Tips for Writing Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction Online Perhaps the greatest asset for a […]

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If you want to know how to write flash fiction, read some advice compiled from aficionados of this most versatile of forms.

Let your title do some of the work, but don’t give away the story resolution with it either.

Thirteen Tips for Writing Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction Online

Perhaps the greatest asset for a flash writer is the ability to create character through voice. That skill is well worth exploring, and the best exploration is either through just doing it, or by reading what others do.

Vanessa Gebbie, Flash Fiction, Writers & Artists

How to write flash fiction:

  1. Start in the middle.
  2. Don’t use too many characters.
  3. Make sure the ending isn’t at the end.
  4. Sweat your title.
  5. Make your last line ring like a bell.
  6. Write long, then go short.

David Gaffney, Stories in your pocket: how to write flash fiction, The Guardian

When it comes to flash fiction you have to be clever. There will be instances where you will want to tell, instead of show. One sentence may be all you need to explain a sordid past as a stripper, hitman, or crooked banker. Think of the tip of the iceberg—show us that, but not the entire mountain of ice and snow.

Richard Thomas, Storyville: How to Write Flash Fiction, LitReactor

You only have room for one main character, so choose her well. What’s more, in a flash piece, this character has only one compelling need. Because flash fiction is about focus, all of her qualities focus themselves on supporting her single compelling need.

J Timothy King, 10 Flash Fiction Writing Tips, Be the Story

Common clichés that can mean a story lands in the reject pile:

  1. Cheap, throwaway, jokey twist endings.
  2. Earnest meditations on the meaning of life, with no plot or characters.
  3. Crazy surrealism for no purpose.
  4. Poems submitted as flash-fiction.
  5. Yet another story about suicide.
  6. Over-writing.
  7. Cheap sentiment.
  8. “Issue” stories, where the ending is supposed to teach us an important lesson.
  9. Strong stories with weak endings, where the writer seems to have lost courage.

Calum Kerr, Flash Fiction: What Not To Do, Litro

Writing short stories is about learning how little you need, about what isn’t written as much as about what is on the page. Flash fiction takes this to the extreme.

Tania Hershman, Want Tips from Short Story Author, Tania Hershman?, daily(w)rite

Try simplifying your story so that you focus on one idea or emotion.

Richard Thomas, Storyville: How to Write Flash Fiction, LitReactor

Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit,
And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,
I will be brief . . .

“Hamlet” by William Shakespeare

If you obey all the rules you miss all the fun.

Katharine Hepburn

The best way to improve your flash fiction writing is to write more flash fiction and read more flash fiction! We publish a new flash fiction every day. You can also search for flash fiction stories by author.

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Three-Shot Induction http://reflexfiction.com/three-shot-induction-by-annie-dawid/ http://reflexfiction.com/three-shot-induction-by-annie-dawid/#respond Mon, 11 Mar 2024 08:32:09 +0000 http://reflexfiction.com/?p=69 Eight months and one week is a long time to go without caffeine, but I did it for the baby, assuming Elijah or Dahlia would be calmer and healthier without my favorite stimulant. But I couldn’t last the full gestation. That humid August Friday, a storm looming in the east, I could bear it no […]

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Eight months and one week is a long time to go without caffeine, but I did it for the baby, assuming Elijah or Dahlia would be calmer and healthier without my favorite stimulant. But I couldn’t last the full gestation. That humid August Friday, a storm looming in the east, I could bear it no longer, so, at my favorite neighborhood JavaStop, ordered a milkshake with three shots of espresso and two scoops of chocolate ice cream, all submerged in cold French press with brewed coffee ice cubes. Not surprisingly, I erupted from my sweat-soaked lethargy, staying up all night reading about breathing to prepare for my first birthing class the next day. Midway through the morning, vibrating with energy, I went into labor, three weeks early: one week per shot of espresso. Because I hadn’t yet packed, the stop at the house to gather possessions was necessarily haphazard: Richard Burton reading John Donne to get me through the hours to follow; Van Gogh in Arles to look at between contractions; a yellow pad for ideas. Pre-partem depression receded into memory, along with desperate ideas for adopting my baby out to a more fit mother after the Columbine Massacre caused me to question the sanity of giving birth in such a country. The coffee swept my depression into its proper perspective: we live in a dangerous world. But twenty-four hours later, Baby Eli emerged whole and fine, apparently unscathed by the caffeinated cocktail that catalyzed his arrival. Nearly seventeen years later, I still tell stories about that life-giving, lifetime engendering coffee milkshake. Each morning, grinding the beans, I give thanks.

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Then It Was Autumn Again http://reflexfiction.com/then-it-was-autumn-again-flash-fiction-by-sherri-turner/ http://reflexfiction.com/then-it-was-autumn-again-flash-fiction-by-sherri-turner/#respond Mon, 11 Mar 2024 08:30:23 +0000 http://reflexfiction.com/?p=67 In Paris, they don’t catch falling leaves in autumn like people in England do. Well, the people outside the shop on the Boulevard Haussmann certainly didn’t. They looked at us as though we were mad, dancing under the branches, our arms flailing. ‘Les Anglais – fous!’ we heard them say. I don’t know how they […]

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In Paris, they don’t catch falling leaves in autumn like people in England do. Well, the people outside the shop on the Boulevard Haussmann certainly didn’t. They looked at us as though we were mad, dancing under the branches, our arms flailing. ‘Les Anglais – fous!’ we heard them say.

I don’t know how they knew we were English, our involuntary outpourings as we leapt and twirled unintelligible as a language. We didn’t care. We were indeed mad – mad with love, leaping and twirling at the joy of it.

We drank pastis from tiny glasses and cafe-au-lait from oversized cups, crammed croissants into our mouths, into each other’s mouths. We walked along the banks of the Seine where the gay couples sunbathe and let them check you out, although it was clear you were taken. We threw coins from bridges to ensure our return and spent afternoons in bed with the sounds of Paris a backdrop to our passion.

Back in England it couldn’t go on. There were bills and jobs and you forgot who we had been in Paris. I told you we were still those people, but you couldn’t see it. The winter brought a sharp chill that didn’t thaw through spring and summer and then it was autumn again.

I bought fresh croissants, pastis, tiny glasses and took them to your office, just to be mad again. I poured two shots and waited on a bench outside. There was a girl there, laughing and shouting in French as she ran among the trees that edged the car park, trying to catch a leaf.

The glasses slipped from my hand and shattered on the tarmac as I remembered that I’d never seen anyone do that in France and realised that someone must have taught her.


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Autumn 2020 Long-List http://reflexfiction.com/autumn-2020-long-list/ http://reflexfiction.com/autumn-2020-long-list/#respond Mon, 11 Mar 2024 08:28:44 +0000 http://reflexfiction.com/?p=65 Thanks to everyone who entered our Autumn 2020 competition. We received 587 entries from 32 different countries. Below we’ve compiled a long-list of fifty stories. Congratulations to everyone who made the long-list! If your story is on the long-list and you ticked the permission box (you can check your confirmation email or get in touch with […]

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Thanks to everyone who entered our Autumn 2020 competition. We received 587 entries from 32 different countries.

Below we’ve compiled a long-list of fifty stories. Congratulations to everyone who made the long-list!

If your story is on the long-list and you ticked the permission box (you can check your confirmation email or get in touch with us if you can’t remember), your story will be published on the website between 23 November* and 31 December. If you didn’t tick the box, your story will only be published if you’ve won a prize. Feel free to send us a message and we’ll let you know if your story is going to be published.

Before we start publishing the long-listed stories, we’ll publish some of our favourites that didn’t quite make the long-list. We’ll be emailing the authors of these stories in the next few days to let them know.

If your story is not on the long-list and you do not hear from us within the next week, it means your entry has not been selected on this occasion.

Here’s the Autumn 2020 publishing schedule in full:

  • 2 October–22 November*: Some of our favourite stories that just missed the long-list
  • 23 November*–28 December: Non-winning long-listed stories in no particular order
  • 29 December: Third place story
  • 30 December: Second place story
  • 21 December: First place story & Judge’s report

*Dates subject to change due to withdrawals etc.

Don’t forget, the Winter 2020 competition is now open for entries with Tania Hershman picking the winners.

Autumn 2020 Long-List

A Minimal Supersymmetric Standard Model of the Universe by Alan Michael Parker

A Shepherd’s Care by E A Colquitt

A View From a Bus by John Wineyard

A Welcome Break From the Apocalyptic Norm by Joanne Clague

Accidentals by Elizabeth Moss

All Breakages by Daisy Saunders

An Apology, of Sorts, to My Brother at His Funeral by Diane D Gillette

Beguiled by a Wild Thing by Danielle Baldock

Blind Side by Lee Nash

Bringing Down the House by Susan James

Deaf Dog by Debra Waters

Delivery by Kathryn Clark

Dragon Dust by Leanne Radojkovich

Fever Van by Julie Evans

Formaldehyde by Jo Withers

Hell Is Alarming by K J Ruga

Hereditary by Hollie Richards

How You Should and How You Will by Elizabeth Moss

Kit by Jay Gilbert

Kittens by Rachel Malik

Leonardo Da Vinci by Ibrahim Salihu

Motherhood Is a Series of Mistakes by Sarah Klenbort

Mouse by Gillian O’Shaughnessy

Negative by Michelle Wright

Nest by Ben Sorgiovanni

No Longer Defined, She Is Beyond Definition by Donna L Greenwood

Oblations by Jane Copland

Part of Me by Charlie Swailes

Peacock Shimmer-Blue, Lips so Pink a Shocker by Nicola Godlieb

Peeling Vegetables by Jamie D Stacey

People Present on Carnaby Street on a Saturday Afternoon in Early May by Matt Kendrick

Rabbit Heart by Georgia Cook

Recovery by Anika Carpenter

Rubble of Longing by Dettra Rose

Sharing by Mimi Kunz

She Loves You by Leonie Rowland

The Bad Baby by Louise Watts

The Big Wheel by Alison Woodhouse

The Complex Art of Matriarchal Duplicity by Kathy Hoyle

The Lesser Light by Aroha Te Whata

The Lovers’ Bucket List by Laura Besley

The Lyrical Lie by Warren Paul Glover

The Other Mountain Is on Fire by Tom O’Brien

The Silent Sacrifices of Mothers by Katie Piper

The Things You Grew by T L Ransome

The Tragedy of Tomorrow by T L Ransome

The Wrinkling of My Glabrous Skin Is Proof That I’m Alive by Morgan Quinn

This Is About the Starfish by Sam Payne

Toadeater by F J Morris

When the Wheels Stop by Christine Collinson


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Mistakes Multiplied by 3.14159 http://reflexfiction.com/mistakes-multiplied-by-31459-flash-fiction-by-marissa-hoffmann/ http://reflexfiction.com/mistakes-multiplied-by-31459-flash-fiction-by-marissa-hoffmann/#respond Mon, 11 Mar 2024 08:27:28 +0000 http://reflexfiction.com/?p=63 His daughters are marching in Parliament Square. Their banners say Global Warming’s Not Cool. And all he’s ever wanted was to give them the world. In the peace of his studio, the globe maker preserves the discerning man’s world. He guides a craft knife along the edges of petal-shaped segments of map, each one to […]

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His daughters are marching in Parliament Square. Their banners say Global Warming’s Not Cool.

And all he’s ever wanted was to give them the world.

In the peace of his studio, the globe maker preserves the discerning man’s world. He guides a craft knife along the edges of petal-shaped segments of map, each one to be carefully positioned and gummed by fingers made nimble from plaiting long blonde braids. He’s a time lord, pausing a priceless moment in time for his customers. He inks in their gods and their jackals and colour-washes the yesterday coastlines.

He imagines them sipping their single malt from crystal tumblers in private leathery libraries; the diplomat, the explorer, the tycoon and the prime minister, holding the world in their hands.

Men with manicured fingernails whirl past wars and sandy famines, then pause aghast at the delicate brushwork in the butterfly wings blamed for the chaos. They shake their heads at giant blue whales hiding beneath an ocean of plastic, and they keep turning,
turning,
turning,
plotting, from Baffin Bay all the way down to Deception Island.

The globe maker’s girls put their trust in human instinct, they cuddle him and tell him don’t be afraid. But his work is the witness, he transcribes mankind’s story first hand and he tells them it’s no bedtime tale. He draws in the jagged borders redrawn and the shifting rivers damned.

It’s a heavy weight to bear on rounded shoulders and a truth that’s always been his prime meridian. Precision is the axis of his efforts, for it’s only a globe maker who’ll tell you: mistakes are multiplied by pi.

So, he’s not asking the earth, his wishes are simple, he’s a father at his core. For a time when the world has turned more than his days, and for the love of curious daughters of daughters, he etches a tiny warm message on what’s left of the Shackleton ice shelf:

Keep this precious globe turning.

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When Plan A Goes Awry http://reflexfiction.com/when-plan-a-goes-awry-flash-fiction-by-lisa-ferranti/ http://reflexfiction.com/when-plan-a-goes-awry-flash-fiction-by-lisa-ferranti/#respond Mon, 11 Mar 2024 08:25:07 +0000 http://reflexfiction.com/?p=61 Dani’s hands are dirty. She digs in soil beneath the rose bushes in the condo’s community garden, ignoring Blake, who’s weeding next to her. She forgot her gloves, and her fingernails collect grime. She tries not to picture her nails raking Blake’s back just an hour before. The audacity, she thinks, trying to avoid other […]

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Dani’s hands are dirty. She digs in soil beneath the rose bushes in the condo’s community garden, ignoring Blake, who’s weeding next to her. She forgot her gloves, and her fingernails collect grime. She tries not to picture her nails raking Blake’s back just an hour before. The audacity, she thinks, trying to avoid other ‘A’ words that crowd her mind.

She’s still surprised she’s attracted to a man the same age as her father, a detail she’s concealed from him on their weekly calls. Another concealed detail: Blake is married. The disease Blake’s wife has: Alzheimer’s. It doesn’t absolve Dani, but she uses the knowledge to assuage her guilt.

Mrs Crandle, the condo association president, gives her a purse-lipped smile, and Dani nods, looks away. She imagines that everyone sees a scarlet ‘A’ emblazoned across her chest. She recalls the family-folklore her dad tells: how at age three she ate a little wooden ‘A’ tile from the Scrabble game. She wonders now if that incident branded her somehow, marked her as a future Adulteress.

A prickly weed pokes her finger and she yanks her hand upward, scraping it against the bush’s thorns. A line of red dots appears on her knuckles. Blake removes one glove, pulls a white handkerchief from his pocket, offers it to her, their arms brushing in the exchange. She pulls away as if her skin has been singed.

She remembers her highest scoring Scrabble word ever, during a game with her dad when she was younger: Vixen, the X on a triple letter, plus double word. She was so proud of herself, the word holding no meaning then other than Score!, a time when her plan didn’t include being a mistress, when all ‘A’ stood for was Apple.

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Not Going Out http://reflexfiction.com/not-going-out-by-emma-dykes/ http://reflexfiction.com/not-going-out-by-emma-dykes/#respond Mon, 11 Mar 2024 08:23:07 +0000 http://reflexfiction.com/?p=59 What would happen if I stayed in the house for another week? Would they know? Perhaps they already know. Perhaps it is already a subject. But how would they know? People still came, what of it if I didn’t go? Outside looks dour. It’s not a day to go out. It’s a day to stare […]

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What would happen if I stayed in the house for another week? Would they know? Perhaps they already know. Perhaps it is already a subject.

But how would they know? People still came, what of it if I didn’t go?

Outside looks dour. It’s not a day to go out. It’s a day to stare out. The house overlooks uncelebrated, toppled headstones, claimed by lichens and scoured by weather. The deep dead rest out there, unmolested. Breath on the glass obscures them so I draw on the pane with a manicured finger: smiley-face.

I am hiding; they must have noticed.

When thoughts come, simply acknowledge them and let them pass.

No. I am hibernating. A natural state for mammals in the winter. I am channelling the bear, or rather, the hedgehog. I am curled up in a ball with my spiny parts external, until spring. I’ll definitely surface then and be cheerful, like the daffs. The kids won’t mind, they keep my vulnerable inner warm. They are not outdoorsy children anyway; the garden meets all their needs. And the internet.

Do something that scares you every day. Tomorrow.

I am safe. These castle walls keep us, this sanctuary. Home is where the heart is, all my hats lay here. We’ll all be quite fine. We’re just not going out today.

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