FFF Competition Twenty Judge’s Report by Adele Evershed
27th March 2024
Firstly, I'd like to thank Ian and the team at Free Flash Fiction. I have found their support invaluable on my own writing journey, and being asked to judge the twentieth Free Flash Fiction Competition was the cherry on the cake. When Ian asked me, I was equally honored and apprehensive. The first thing that struck me about the long-listed stories was the sheer scope of subjects and genres. There were stories about slavery, tales about scam artists, ruminations on the loss of a loved one, reflections on the loss of one's self. There was a flash that verged on science–fiction and one with the definite tang of a murder mystery. Each one held out a tantalizing morsel that kept me changing my mind each time I reread them. So I'd like to congratulate all the writers for making my job so difficult. I want to give a special shout-out to two stories that almost made the shortlist: Remnants, which was almost like a prose poem about what to do with a loved one's possessions when they are no longer there, and Buried Lives, which also dealt with material possessions and loss in a well-paced piece of writing about coming to terms with the true you.
So, onto the shortlist:
The Box of Tears: The title drew me in immediately, and I loved how the writer invested a personality into the 'man-sized tartan blue' box of tissues. The narrator's vision of the person who has the counseling session before them was a masterful way to illustrate how we often deflect our own problems by focusing on anything else.
TAKE IT AWAY SNOW-WHITE GIRL. IT'S ALL YOUR. IT'S ALL YOURS: This is certainly a piece that rewards rereading. Its weirdness got under my skin, and I found myself returning to it time and time again. As women, haven't we all battled with the new diet promising we'll turn from a witch into a princess? And haven't we all met our fair share of 'princes, pretenders or prancers’? And haven't we all wanted to cut off our hair and smile? By my third read-through, I was cheering Queen on as she made the decisive cut!
O that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth: I have a soft spot for stories that include food; it works as a shorthand for conjuring up some of the senses underutilized in a lot of flash fiction, and this one hits the spot deliciously. I loved the writer’s use of sensuous language, ‘pour slow black treacle’ and ‘earth-mother oatmeal’ and I also enjoyed the humor in this flash: ”I treat his boxers with a dusting of ginger, a note in the fly of the final pair, 'Hope she likes it hot’". This line was a nice juxtaposition to the feelings the narrator reveals in the final sentence. I had never heard of a 'Thor Cake', but after reading this flash, I am baking one for next Bonfire Night.
Highly Commended
Heat: This horrifying tale starts with a feeling of unease. What is everyone waiting for? But then the story gently seduces the reader with visions of a cooling breeze, a refreshing drink, and a magnolia tree shading a veranda. I loved the wonderfully descriptive language of this story: 'the planter's sickly wife glistens upstairs' and 'the glow inside is a pale, voiceless heat.' But the thing that clinched its spot was the line 'some things are not allowed inside,’ which is about the glass of lemonade. The idea that a child was not allowed to take her drink into the house threw the terrible spectacle of a pregnant enslaved person being branded into stark relief and made it land like a punch to the stomach.
My mother has become an owl: This is a poignant take on the transformation of a parent into somebody unrecognizable. I loved the language and the powerful descriptions. The descriptions conjured a desolate image of aging and disease: ’She shuffles her scaly feet and flexes her blackened talons' and 'the fetid stains blotching threadbare furniture'. The bewilderment and hopelessness of the children reduced to 'scuttling mice' waiting for any sign that their mum still knew them was heartbreaking. And then, in the final paragraph, we are left wondering if this all-too-familiar tale might have a happy ending after all. Masterfully done.
The Winner
Tree Wife: Coming up with the shortlist might have been challenging, but deciding on the winner was easy. I love first lines that grab you, and 'the day she became a tree her husband planted her in their garden' certainly did that. Of course, a great first line has to follow up, and this story of a husband tending to his 'tree wife' delivers. It is a beautiful meditation on grief and coping. Each image left me with a lump in my throat, from him tearing a hole 'clear through to the centre of the earth' to the care he takes to wash the tree 'gently sponging her coarse flesh and massaging each knot. Just as he'd done before.' The tree's growth mirrors the evolution of the husband's grief, from a 'frozen ground' through 'spring flowers,' until he can 'set down his spade' and marvel at his daughter who is so like her mother. The ending is both poignant and hopeful. This is a well-crafted, dreamy piece of writing. A deserving winner.
Adele Evershed