August Flash Fiction Contest! ~ Heatwave ~
From now on, The Thoughts Bubble will hold a monthly Flash Fiction contest!
The Grand Prize will be a $20.00 Amazon Gift Card which will be emailed directly to you electronically.
The Rules are simple:
- Write a short story, poem, thought, letter, etc that is no longer than 300 words.
- This piece of fiction must be based on the theme for the month.
- Submit your flash fiction into the comment to THIS blog post by the 15th of the month.
- Top 10 submissions will be voted on through this blog.
- Winner will be announced on the 1st of the month.
- Collect your prize :)
Since it is blazing hot outside, the theme for August will be "Heatwave" take it however you would like. So get out there and write, and don't forget to comment with your submission by August 15th!
Look forward to reading your masterpiece!
- Lev
3 comments:
"Over the Balcony" by Mercedes Lopez
The space between her legs was small and safe and I found its slight diamond shape equally as mesmerizing as sacred and thus, untouchable. Perched on delicate sugar cookie toes, Rebecca Shapiro placed her hands on the balcony railing. Straight mahogany hair fell over the round of her right shoulder: fair exposed skin meant for butterfly kisses. She rose off her feet: balance shifting, her head dipped forward. Her petite heels—could’ve fit into each of my cupped palms—parted as they rose. I followed the negative space upwards from her ankles. The white Baltimore sky shone bright around her edges. The planes flattened, becoming all foreground, making her heavenly. My forefinger drew the lines around her onto the arm of my chair.
I’d traveled to the place behind her knees: I could’ve fit my hand perfectly around each. I imagined every situation that had us sitting side by side. My hand found its place upon the flat of each respective knee. I wanted to tie her to every chair and hold her knee all night in every alternate universe.
Rebecca raised her head and seemed to look headlong across the roofs of red and brown buildings, cream rowhouses, an entire city below her. She had fallen back onto her heels, the diamond had disappeared. I waited for her to lean over the ledge again, considered that I had never noticed it before, wanted to bear witness. Rebecca’s hair fell, her weight shifted, calves tightened, knees buckled, thighs tensed, I felt involved, intimate, the crease underneath each cheek emerged, curved, like two perfectly rounded scoops of butter pecan. I was shameless, considered my understanding of depth and spatial relations, having one perspective, I wanted three-hundred-sixty degrees. A hot summer day on a balcony, I wanted some ice cream.
Candied Ginger - Marlena Cassidy (Late to the party but still in time for the cake.)
The heatwave stretches on, turning weeds to golden brown and sun kissed decks into faded glories. The heatwave stretches on, and they lie in bed with their clothes all gone, spread out in sweaty skin and rumpled sheets, the distant hum of the air conditioning reverberating through their bones. Inside this little oasis of cool, manufactured air, they are safe from the heat rising off the ground in a million little shivers, mirages of reflecting pools dotting the melting asphalt like sunny puddles after a long, hard rain. The heatwave won’t touch them in here.
But it does in lots of little ways, tanned skin and bathing suit lines suddenly becoming something magnificent and sultry, something to be touched and revered and loved and worshipped, and her skin tastes of cinnamon and vanilla depending on where he puts his mouth. The swell of her breasts are mix of three, of vanilla and cinnamon and if he wants to be trite, maybe a cherry, but it's really not that. Maybe it's chocolate or a piece of candied ginger that he tastes. Yes, that's it. Candied ginger. He enjoys it as it melts over his tongue, spicy and sweet.
Inside, the heatwave roils between them, hungry and insistent. Outside, the sun hangs swollen on the horizon and another day of the heatwave ends for the rest of the world. For them though, it’s just beginning.
"Here I Go Again"
What is a heat wave exactly? When one thinks of heat wave, well, it's just that; a wave of heat. The only problem with "what one thinks" is not what I was thinking when I decided to write about the words heat wave.
Do you have any idea how many non-weather heat wave subjects there are in this world. Why just yesterday, I read about a company in Malaysia that sells heat wave phat pants. Does this mean, a wave of heat goes through a "phat" persons pants? Now there is a visual! Can you believe there is actually a heat wave phat dance shuffle? I guess if I were wearing heat wave phat pants and the wave "hit" I too would be doing the shuffle dance.
It just occurred to me. I'm going to a baseball game tomorrow. The way society is with all these fads, I bet the "wave" at the game will turn into the heat wave phat dance shuffle, and everyone, in the stadium, will look like they need to go to the bathroom REALLY bad.
Aah, heck, wish I had just talked about the heat wave and the weather. Now there's an interesting word "weather." Do you have any idea how many variations there are to.........never mind, here I go again.