Safe Place
Twitter flash Challenge
Prompt: BLUR vs OASIS
Optician said his eyesight's fine.
Yet he couldn't see further than edges of things. If he focused on his sister, he could imagine her his overture, & that his brother was still there, blurred for a moment in the periphery of his oasis.
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A 249 character Twitter flash is a great way to practice brevity. Most Mondays I try to participate in WHQ’s weekly prompts. This one combines their prompts of BLUR vs OASIS, with another community’s—vss365–prompt of OVERTURE. Hope you like it.
Why not have a go yourselves and post it in my comments. I’ve just decided as I’m writing this, if I get more than five, I’ll tip my favourite $5. If less, I’ll split it between you 🤗
This has now turned into a challenge yay!
Post on Monday 2 October by midnight UK time. I’ll read them on Tuesday 3 October and announce my winner on Wednesday morning (UK). If there aren’t many, I might even do it on Tuesday. If you don’t make 2nd, it doesn’t matter; It would be great to read what you come up with at any time.
The challenge is:
Write a 249 character short Twitter/X length flash. Title doesn’t count.
Prompt: OASIS vs BLUR.
Interpret in any way you wish.
You can use one or both words of the prompt.
Post the flash, below.
Don’t explain your flash, let the words do the work and trust your reader.
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I’ll make a post with the entries and link to profile pages 🤗
Get flashing! I can’t wait to see what you create.
Thank you for reading and for indulging me 🥰
About the Creator
Teresa Renton
Inhaling life, exhaling stories, poetry, prose, flash or fusions. An imperfect perfectionist who writes and recycles words. I write because I love how it feels to make ink patterns & form words, like pictures, on a page.
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More stories from Teresa Renton and writers in Fiction and other communities.
Liminal: occupying a position at, or on both sides of, a boundary or threshold. OED
Bonbons in a glass jar tempt me; a jar of chopped-up rainbow. I swirl a yellow one around my mouth, expect the zing and tang of fresh lemon. I spit it into my hand when no one is looking and bury it in a potted ficus by the TV set. I hate bananas. My husband devours them instead of crisps and candy. I smell them on his clothes; just a hint, through wood-spice aftershave and whiskey.
By Teresa Renton8 months ago in Fiction
Peanuts and Crackerjack
Bottom of the ninth inning. The game is tied with two outs, two strikes and a man on second. I tap the bat on home plate. The rigid vibrations it creates reminds my aching digits that this isn't over. The practice swing only adds to the heft of mental burnout... Man on second, willing to chance it. Pitcher eyes him but doesn't give in to the dangerous bluff. I kick up dust, readying the peculiar stance I've had since the days of little league. The bat lays stiff upon my cramping shoulder. Pain has no reason to be acknowledged; it's a fleeting afterthought. The sun sits passed high noon, but the stadium lights are on anyway. They trick my brain into believing they are the cause of this sweltering heat. Sporadic clouds are motionless, they too, don't want to miss this exhilarating predicament. Anticipating the next pitch, intensifying roars from the crowd rumble the stadium... Behind me, the crafty catcher adjusts his stance and spits to the dry dirt. Behind him, the staunch umpire doesn't flinch or even blink; he knows how important his call will be. The pitcher winds up, his grip tells me its gonna curve. The release is fierce! Beads of sweat from his hair and face disperse in every direction as the force of his might is unfailing. My left leg lifts—an instinctual move that will increase the power of my swing. It's all down to my two, bloodshot eyes. They lock onto the speeding, white dot as it instantly becomes the target I intend to destroy. The swing is late, but I manage a solid tip. The ball is taking a fast bounce toward the pitcher who is recovering from the almighty throw! Man on second leaves in a desperate rush! I fling the bat to the side with a sense of urgency and make a mad sprint to the only destination I have—first base. Three defenders race inward to be the first to retrieve the skidding ball. Man is almost on third! I watch the open glove of my adversary, wondering if I’ve done enough to win this race. I switch my attention to his eyes, looking for a clue, some kind of reaction that tells me the ball is in the air and heading his way. All I see is frustration. The deafening roar of the crowd spikes! Something happens that I can’t see! My opponent abandons his post right as my left stride touches the bag. I waste no time turning my head to see the pitcher laying on his stomach, pounding the mound with an open glove. He misses the opportunity to out me and the ball has quickly bounced past him. Excitement grows! This isn’t over yet... It's become an imperative fight to tag out the runner heading homeward. The catcher falls to his knees in obvious despair as he watches my teammate make the run of his life. He knows it’s going to be close when he sees the shortstop fumble the ball a second too long. I jump up and down with no plans on leaving first base. All my chips are on the speed and agility of the active runner. His cleats dig into the dirt, trailing a dust-filled cyclone from the rapid and strenuous strides. With a thrusting dive and an outstretched arm, he lands on his chest to begin the crucial slide to home plate. The shortstop fires the ball to the catcher! It immediately begins closing the gap! Nail-biting doesn't begin to describe the anxious vibe permeating the stadium. The bench begins to celebrate even before he reaches the plate. Forty thousand cheering fans reach maximum crescendo, filling the air with a glorious sound. Everyone knows how this story will end… My teammate is met by the entire bench as his fingers inch across home plate, instantly followed by the unmistakable motion of the catcher's glove attempting to tag him out—its milliseconds too late. The ump swings his arms outward, officially calling him safe.
By Lamar Wiggins5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (6)
These types of pieces are so difficult to pull off and this one was great!!
Love this! I'm going to work on mine now 😀
OHHHH I'm excited for this, if only to read the entries. But I'll try! (Celia's is amazing; she did a poem).
Great job on the story. Well done.
OK will try this, intriguing as JS says
Intriguing story. Challenging prompt. 😎