ATA Flash Fiction Winner

March 3, 2018

Our 2018 - Week 8 Winner is ...

 

You’d think that judging between two stories would be easy, but it’s not, at least not in this case.  Both stories are well written, One is about an unfair (in my opinion) social situation and the other serves as an intro to what could and should be a much longer story.  The first cries out to my sense of justice the second engages my senses.

 

Both authors are amazing writers and I look forward to reading more of your work.  Feel free to contact me if you would like to discuss your stories and my judging, and I do apologize for the delay.

 

 You will be glad to know that today’s prompt of high winds taking out power lines has been replaced with a more relaxing prompt.


This week’s winning story is: Summit Meeting by Mark A Morris

 

This story engages the reader by engaging their senses.  It puts them in the boat, together with the heroes. It leaves them with the need to move, to row.  I would really like to see this story in a longer form.

 

Summit Meeting 
by Mark A Morris

 

A lightning bolt struck the mountainside in front of us, its report echoing back like a sniper’s shot.

 

“Looks like Wiggins is here.” Luke trailed his hand in the water alongside the boat then drew it out, towelling it dry on the leg of his jeans. He gave it a sniff and then licked his fingertips. “Andrea too. She’s sleeping.”

 

“You ought to use their proper names,” I said. “They’ll not answer to them while they’re here. Besides, it keeps us secure. There’s less chance folk can trace us if we stick to our chosen names.”

 

“Secure?” Luke scoffed. “Like Stormcloud needs to be anonymous. Or Ocean. They can both look after themselves.”

 

I shrugged. It was as much for our protection as theirs. Taster’s powers were passive – he was a restaurant critic in the ‘real’ world – and although I could become invisible at will, it hadn’t stopped me being run down in the street by taxicabs five times. Being Glass had its merits, of course.

 

“Just follow procedure,” I said. “You know it makes sense.”

 

The boat continued toward the island, Ocean’s reveries guiding it along, until it stopped, two hundred yards away, seemingly becalmed.

 

A fireball scored the sky, hitting the island with a loud concussion. The lake began to ripple and then steam.

 

“Looks like Blaze is here too,” I said, dryly. “Those two never get along. Ocean’s bound to be awake now. There goes any chance we’ll get anything agreed at this summit meeting. If we’re lucky, we’ll only be needed as peacekeepers. If we’re not…” I left the thought hanging, not wanting to tempt fate by voicing the alternative.

 

“So, what do we do now?” Taster licked his lips, trying to get a sense of the situation.

 

“We row,” I said. “We row.
 

 

 

Congratulations Mark, ad thank you all for sharing your tallent with us!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tune in at noon for a new challenge

 

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