‘SHOW, DON’T TELL’ FLASH FICTION CONTEST 2022

Prize: £200

Finalists

Rani Elvire

Maria Achihaitei

Sara Philips

Cherllisha Silva

Honourable Mentions

The following are writers who just missed out on being a finalist!

Rhea Reddy, J. C. Roskell, Robert Burns, Carl Herstedt, Raeesah Chandlay, A. Lin, Filip Chapman, Alwynn Snow, Josephine Queen, Bean Sawyer, Lisa Verdekal, Pat Cammish, Peter V. Hilton, Jayna, Valerie Griffin, Anusha Shrestha, Rosie Cullen, Ryle Lagonsin, Katrina Moinet, Olivia Gledhill, Cole Wilson, K. Shavita, E. D. Human, Melinda Pouncey, Ann Struck, Marie-Louise McGuiness, Ernesto Garcia, Megan Geiger, Marilyn Briant Rockmore, Maddie Logemann, Leo Li, Katie Holloway, Elijah Patterson, Sharon Harris-Smith, Sumitra Shankar, Nicki Blake, Nicole K. Hollick, Fhionna Mac, Jay McKenzie, Isabel Flynn, Emily MacDonald, Shona-Ellen Barnett, Deryn Pittar, Val Roberts, Kerry Ladris.

Longlist

The following are writers who just missed out on being an honourable mention!

Sulogna Mehta, Kevin S. Krahenbuhl, Marlene H. Pitcher, Simon Chill, Greene M. Wills, Samantha Pinazza, Kyle Andrew Sowell, Vini Lacerda, S. B. Wrd, J. C. Smith, Zoe Stanley, Timothy London, Amelia Hemsley, Tinamarie Cox, Ingrid Van Gaalen, Jamie Bernthal-Hooker, Kay Lesley Reeves, Jane Carmichael, Antal Leisen, Richard A. Shury, Ed N. White, Ella Rainz, Mary-Ann van der Linden, Kim M. Russell, Tara Darrall, Addison Noble, George R. Frost, Tamara Southward, Sara Morgan, Samantha Carr, Stacey Potter, Brian Poachie, Joe Wolfe, Kathryn Benbow, Tom Sheehan, Jane Brydon, Sophie McNaughton, Deborah Thompson, Laura Bryer, Rachel Swabey, A. Carter-Ripley, Amanda Fox, Mark Patterson, Julie Dron, Philip M. Stuckey, Micaela Wilkes, Ronita Sinha, Johanna Pruller, James Hancock, Meg Fargher, Hannah Rickard, Carole Meads, Sonam Pelden, Rashi Gaikward, Erin Ferguson, L. M. Lydon, Hilary Ayshford, Suzanne Pherigo, Miruna Marin, Kerr Pelto, Sasha Deepwell, Jinny Alexander, Abigail S., Jon Braunstein, Sarah Haggett, Irena Turovich, Laura Wadorff, Séimí Mac Aindreasa, Ruth May, C. L. Stevens, Maria Dean, Maureen MacLennan, Rachel Atkins, Joyce Bingham, Sue Glamuzina, A. O. Henderson, Nicola Jackson, Atang, Justine Melloria, Teodora Vamvuu, Annie Richardson, Fernanda Beziaco, Ellen Heavey, Noah Vincent, Rohey Jesseh, Sena Aydin, Allie Guilderson, Leonie Vorster, Yevheniia Chumak, Tiwongi Mayndi Kakungo, Kaeper Calka, L. J. Knight, Lina Chandanais, Maddy Coope, Escaily, Holly Jones, Kiara Naidoo, Houda, Aanchal Saraf, Manaly Talukdar, Nafisa B., Rosie Critchley, Sharon Brady-Smith, Bhabya Limbu, Prateeti Das, Anika Hazra, Elizabeth Spencer Spragins, Jacqueline Sibanda, Lily Lu, Sama Bakht, Thim, Laura Cox, Ekow Pierre, Haven Lourde, Ella Nightingale, Katie McCoy, Alice Gun, Rebecca Lickiss, Thomas J. Hunston, Mikayla Hill, Debbie Wingate, Gabriela Guratti, Tesni Penney, Rebecca Clancy, Sarah Kelleher, Justine Walker, Dani Sheehan, Marian Brewis, Tony Pheonix, Eddie Collins lll, Nandakumar Poonthottam, Mandy Jo, Sarah Bouvet, Marubu Mwangi, Holly Sissons, Julie Whalley, Ken Towl, Paul Lewthwaite, Jane Rhodes, Dhevalence Moodley, Cat Zablocki, Madoka Mori, Michelle Christophrou, Fleur Nixon, Saim Khurshid Malik, Erica Ward, Mikaela Brown, Fabien Calzavara, Brittney Tracey, Echo Ruben, Kenechi Udogu, Fanny Vancutsem, Angelina Klein, Kate Aranda Nye, Tarek Barr, Maryam Adigun, Anika Shaik, Alice Shaw, V. S. K. Watanabe, Meir Avital, Maisha Mahrin, Testimony Odey, Lourdes Mackey, Amy Radbourne, Daniel Deisinger, Philip Anderton, Jola Kanani, Andrew Hawkley, Anna Bonazza, Armand Diab, Vanessa Giraud, Karen Darger, Sally Eberhardt, Sophia E. Dollarhyde, Christie Lavarin, Mia Broad, Judy Barnes, C. W. McGee, Christine Light, Morgan Sciacca, Matthew Tett.

and the winner is…

Rani Elvire

Cold Comfort Heights

I smell of mothballs and fungi, a musty aroma rising from clothes kept safe from the hunting eyes of winged things and devils. No wuthering winds can clear the stench of nature.  I pull out my pipe, pollute myself with something golden, a curled twist of leaves smelling of safety, civilization and the warmth of my club. I sit my tweed bottom upon a stone wall, try to imagine I am Jasper Conway, hero - villain, employed by men who wear sharp cut cloth, sovereigns jangling, his pockets filled with pride at work well done.

I stalk the beats of the grassland ways, stone nibbled paths, hoof cloven tracks, forgotten twists winding trails of weather-beaten heather.  Yorkshire madness pelts abuse. Water running down my neck. I struggle towards the old stone outhouse, boots sliding in something sticky and smelling strongly bovine. I heave open the door, eyes squinting at shadows. 

In a corner, a copy of Cold Comfort Farm rests open across a soft rising form, still life breathing herself so sweet that I long to kiss her but I don’t, instead, I let Japer find her as a woman bound, her mouth tasting of stale chloroform and oil-stained rags. My muse has found me and she looks like a gal who could lift a bull and swing him all the way to Hull and back and then some – I sit and watch my muse - write like all the cows in this place were made of gold.

Japer Conway feels for her pulse. I emulate his actions. Jasper Conway feels nothing, her carotid is silent. I feel something, a kick someplace unexpected, a punch slung and more places hurt than there are places to own. She shrieks some local sausage grinding chain of expletives, none of which I understand. My muse is giving me more grief than a cemetery full of mourners. I have no idea how to placate her, for my experience of women belongs to the world of rustling silks, Lilly of the valley, sugared violets, crushed rose petals and demure tea sipping on a terrace, maidens blushing expectation’s to be shattered by those grim reapers of virginity – husbands. 

I look down at my hiss spit farm cat and consider her potential. She will make a great ally for Jasper Conway, make him fat on farmhouse cake and lard-soaked breakfasts before milking the din of cattle now approaching - encroaching. She relieves them of their lactose infused burden whilst I sit watching her clever hands. She inspires me - this lass with strong sinews, swinging her way across the dampness of manure-soaked straw. 

I follow her from the milking shed. Her broadness melting into the waiting embrace of a homespun coat. He looks like me, eyes poaching light, sovereigns jangling ill deeds completed, gun smoking, dogs baying, me writing, cows lowing, pulse fading. Jasper rising, his tweeds smelling of moth balls, his muse bleating ‘come home’ and so I do.