Ultra Flash Fiction Contest

This is a fun contest!  ULTRA FLASH FICTION

Rules:  This contest is open to any NCWN member, or to any member of Pittsboro Writers’ Morning Out living in Chatham or Lee County.

Submission guidelines:

Any subject, any style not to exceed 300 words, including the title.

Only words of one syllable allowed.  (Contractions pronounced as one syllable are OK.  Exp:  I’m, I’d, I’ve, can’t, won’t, don’t.  Also, possessives pronounced as one syllable:  Joe’s, Ann’s, Kate’s etc)

Yes, it can be done.  You can write a story in 300 words, but you must make every word count. This will require some craftsmanship.  Give it a try!

If you wish to see an example:look at August 8, 2011 of this blog  to read the winner of last year’s contest.

This will be a blind judging.  Your name should not appear on the story page.  Include a cover page with name, title, word count and email address.  Send MS and cover page as attachments in .doc, .docx or .txt format.to:

amanning@richkwok.com    Due date:  July 30, 2012.

Note:

The winning entry will be posted to this blog. By submitting an entry, you are assumed to be granting us one-time reprint rights.  This is necessary so we can legally post the winning story to the blog.

If you do not wish a winning entry to be so posted, just let us know.

Poem for the day

To celebrate National Poetry Month
Poems by authors in CHatham/Lee counties

After a Month in New York

at 68^th and York

We all want a fresh fruit and vegetable stand

down the street around the corner

but the destiny of the endless prairie

laid out under a sky bigger than God.

Judith Stanton

Poem for the day

To celebrate National Poetry Month

Poems by authors in Chatham/Lee counties.

Twin Fawns

Two fawns barely old enough

to graze slip inside the white

taped fence from the shelter

of the woods, their spots still

bright, their mother on patrol.

I look away and sigh

at the disorder of

my kitchen—last night’s

pasta with Italian sausage

onions and green peppers

took a lot of pots. I ought

to clean up my mess now.

But these are the first twins

I’ve seen this year, fresh

and glittering, so I look back

only to find them gone.

Any pursuit of wonder

requires obsessive vigilance.

Judith Stanton

From The Deer Diaries

Poem for the day

To celebrate National Poetry Month

Poems by authors in Chatham/Lee Counties.

For You, Daddy

One day you finally realize you’re no longer 11

and he is no longer 45, but rather 49 and 86.

And you will not always have him to correct your grammar,

fuss over how you boil spaghetti, or tell you not to spend

your money on all those hats, even though you’re an adult.

And you will not always have him to call every morning

just to hear him yawn and to tell you he’s already out of bed

even though he’s not.

But you will continue to call his number when someone else’s voice

answers the phone, and you won’t say a word.

You will be that ghost.

Patty Cole

Poem for the day

To celebrate National Poetry Month

Works by authors in Chatham/Lee Counties.

Taxes

(My apologies to Edgar Allan Poe)

Once upon a midnight dreary as I struggled, weak and weary,

over a changed Form 1040 I had never seen before.

Back and forth I did the sums, looking for deduction crumbs,

hoping, ever hoping that I’d find a way to score.

But, alas, twas not my lot to escape an awful blot

upon my worldly fortune, Uncle Sam keeps wanting more.

My mind grows dim with sorrow; the due date is tomorrow,

and I must find the answer else I’ll end up very poor.

Can I claim those gambling debts resulting from my stupid bets?

Should I try to itemize my bar bill from the club?

What about my one contribution, will that not bring absolution?

Surely I can claim deduction for the new pants that I tore.

Alas tis midnight past, and the time is flying fast, and I must find an answer

to the question: How much more?

You may think my answer funny: I’ll just send them all my money,

and request that they return to me all that not spent before.

It is now six months gone by, and as yet there’s no reply,

Could it be that Uncle Sam will grant me no succor?

Then the Raven came rapping, rapping

the Raven came rapping, tapping at my window door.

Oh to be so doubly blessed, a messenger from the IRS!

Surely he has come to tell me that my problems are no more.

And I said “Oh bird austere, do you bring me news of cheer?

If you brought to me a refund, then together we will soar.

I am down to bread and beans, for I do not have the means

to buy a decent meal. Tell me, Raven

am I affluent, as I was in days of yore?

Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore!”

Al Manning

Poem for the day

To celebrate National Poetry Month

poems by authors in Chatham/Lee Counties.

Who can know?

Who can know incredible joy,

Can know incredible sorrow.

In the difference lies Hell.

The Unity is God.

Sharon Graham

Poem for the day

To celebrate National Poetry Month

Poems by authors from Chatham/Lee Counties

These Woods

What know these woods of our passings?

How could we think they should care?

We’ve done little to deserve their compassion

We've defiled them

Scarred them

Pushed them far from our lives

They should have no use for us

But as I stumble along

Head bowed below bare branches

Gathering tinder for this week’s fires

Fires to warm our now somber home

Fires to pierce the desperate chill in our hearts

These woods comfort me

Embrace me

Soothe me with calm, gentle silence

Wrap me in their blessed endlessness

For man is animal

Like fox and deer and bear

Despite our attempts to deny it

Despite our claim to be more

Man is animal

And these woods embrace all of their innocents

Even the wayward ones

They celebrate our birth with their spring

Energize our life with their summer

Acknowledge our maturity with their fall

And mourn our return to the roots with their winter

And winter is here

Winter is here

So together we mourn a return to the roots

Together

These woods

and I

Mike Sepelak