Did you know that there’s no traditional gift for a 100th anniversary? There is a modern gift, though: a 10 karat diamond. If I could I’d pass out 10 karat stunners to the finalists of 5 Minute Fiction this week, I would, but that’s not going to happen. Instead, all five finalists get a 10-page critique/edit from me. There was an email that went astray with guest judge John Hennessy’s picks, so the winner gets a $10 Amazon gift card, also from me since I chose the finalists:
The finalists’ entries:
Michelle
“I’ve never believed in haunted houses, you know,” Marie whispered as she and her sister tip-toed through the dark living room.
“Is that so?” Connie whispered back. “Then why are you shaking like a leaf?”
Marie scowled, but noticed the tremble in the hand with which she carried the bulky flashlight. “Shut up.” They continued on their trek through the room as Marie kept the light focused on the space directly ahead of them. “Let’s just get this over with, okay? It’s the last part of Kappa initiation, and I’ll be damned if we screw up now.”
“You’re right,” Connie agreed, though she looped her arm through her sister’s and pressed closely into her side. “All we have to do is make one walk-through of this stupid house-”
“And we’re golden.” Marie forced a smile at her older sister before taking a tentative step into the musty-smelling kitchen. Her nose scrunched instinctively, but they continued to press forward. The back door was right on the other side of the massive table that rested in the center of the room. They just had to keep moving…
“What was that?” Connie stopped abruptly, prompting Marie to do the same. The two girls stared at one another in complete silence, but Marie’s heart lurched when she heard the noise.
“It sounds like…” She looked to the table and gulped at the sight. “A chair scratching the floor.” Sure enough, the chair at the head of the table was moving away from the table. Marie’s pulse reverberated in her ears as she inched forward. “Come on,” she whispered, pulling her sister. “Quickly. To the door.”
Before they could take another step, however, there was no missing the spoon that clattered to the floor. Connie’s scream echoed throughout the room. “A finger nudged a spoon!” she shouted. “Did you see that?”
“I did.” Not another second went by before Marie was making a beeline for the door with her sister on her heels. Sorority initiation be damned.
Greg Nance
At wits end, I had enough idiocy for the week. In one way or another, the twins had broken glasses, windows and my will. Their father got home an hour after the last tink-a-link rang through the house as a finger nudged a spoon off the table and onto the floor, exploding into a million fragments of spaghetti flavored O’s, but it was too late.
Safely in their playpen, I left them unwashed, and unbeaten. It was the least I could do. A long rest is what I needed, and so I had. Knowing I had a hard day, her left me in the tub of bubbles to soak away the tribulation and trials that built upon my skin like the scales of a snake, never seeing the empty pill bottle bobbing atop the water until last of the suds and my life had disappeared into the time of tomorrows yesterdays.
H.L. Pauff
“…and a finger nudged a spoon. Terrified, the boy grabbed a flashlight and…”
“Wait, wait. Go back. What did you say?” Chuck scratched his head, trying not to laugh.
“Why are you smiling, Chuck?” Randy asked. “Is it funny? It’s supposed to be scary.”
Chuck kept his lips close together to avoid showing any teeth that might give him away. He didn’t want to hurt Randy’s feelings. His writing had definitely improved, but Chuck knew Randy was not cut out to be a horror writer.
Randy’s fists clenched and he let out a sigh of frustration. “What part do you think could be better?”
“Well,” Chuck started, “A finger nudged a spoon? What does that even mean? I’m not adept at murdering, but I don’t think nudging spoons to scare children is something a murderer would do,” Chuck said beginning to crack up.
Randy crumpled up his paper and threw it at Chuck’s face.
“Every time I write something you beg me to share it and then you tear it apart! You always have something terrible to say about my work. One night when you’re sleeping, I’m going to tip toe into your room so silently that not even the floorboards will creak. Guided only by moonlight, I’ll hover over you brandishing a baseball bat. You’ll dream of unicorns and princesses but you’ll never know I’m lurking over you in the dark. I’ll wait for the sound of thunder and then….”
“Wait,” Chuck interrupted. “Grab a pen!”
Rebekah Postulak
The place settings were perfection: hand-painted hummingbirds intertwined with vines flitted acrossed china dishes; sterling silverware, painstakingly scrubbed free of prints and watermarks; crystal glasses, edged with real gold. It was the kind of setting every young bride dreams of but is terrified to sit at lest she break something.
“How much did this cost?” I whispered to Ben. “Those are *jewels* in the forks, for Pete’s sake!”
“Shut up,” he hissed back. “Let them finish.”
I stuck my tongue out at him but shut up while the photographers and the rest of the crew ignored us and continued their work. There would be time enough for my part, the cleanup, though it was looking like it was going to be a crazy late night, and I had places to go.
Except just then a finger nudged a spoon.
I may just be cleanup, but even I’m pretty sure severed body parts aren’t supposed to do that. Great. Now we’ll have to call in another set of specialists and start the wait all over again.
Stinking place settings. Stinking ghostly crime scene.
Jessica
“A finger nudged a spoon. It wasn’t my finger. And then the spoon fell off the table and made a loud noise. And then Milly woke up and started screaming. And then you went upstairs and shushed the baby. And then you came in here. That’s what happened.” David looked away from me as he spoke.
I looked down at my son. He’d gotten into the habit of lying lately and the way he wouldn’t meet my gaze was making me think David was at it again. Everyone told me it was just a phase he was going through, like when he refused to eat anything green or the time when he told me “no” for everything, but I was starting to lose my patience.
I took a deep breath, and let it out. I repeated the process and then I crouched down in front of him. “David, why did you knock the spoon off the table? If it was an accident, you should tell me that. I know you know how important it is that Milly gets her sleep, so I know you wouldn’t do it on purpose.”
“It wasn’t my finger.” David repeated his statement. As he spoke, I realized his glance hadn’t wavered during our conversation. Normally when he lied, he looked all around in his attempt to avoid my eyes, but not this time.
I turned my head to follow his gaze. When I realized what he’d been staring at, I wanted to scream louder than Milly ever had.
There was a finger, almost like a prop from a zombie movie except realer than anything I’d ever seen, creeping along the floor like an inchworm.
All David could say was, “I told you it wasn’t my finger.”
Congratulations to the finalists! Now vote for your favorite!
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5MinuteFiction
Week 100 of 5 Minute Fiction is now over! I’m pleased to announce the winner is . . . Jessica Olin, one of my favorite librarians!
