the contest

“It was a dark and stormy night.”

“What! Are you insane? Do you want to be known in the literary community as a plagiarist?”

“Everything I've read about writing a great story suggests that you open with a strong sentence.”

“Well, you got my attention, thief!”

“I was just kidding. I wanted to see if you were paying attention. It’s midnight and past your bedtime.” “Ok, you've got my attention now.”

“I'm entering a writing contest and I need you to listen to my ideas.”

“You listen, why are you entering another contest? Aren’t you satisfied with the $2o, ooo you just won from the Publisher’s Clearinghouse?

“I need more!”

“Ok. Well, what's the title of your story?”

“The Contest”

“That's simple.”

“You sound sarcastic? Doesn't the title sound ominous? I need to be clever and amusing so I'm using our conversation as dialogue in the story.”

“So far you've missed the mark. You're not clever or funny.”

I sighed. “Come on. Just listen.”

“If I just listen, you'll have no dialogue.”

“Stop right there. I've already swallowed sleep enhancing gummies and

I'm getting great ideas like Samuel Taylor Coleridge who wrote “Kubla Khan: or, A Vision in a Dream: A Fragment” after ingesting opium.”

“Really, gummies versus opium now that's funny.”

“They gave us some writing prompts. We're supposed to write from a dragons’ point of view. He confronts a knight. You can’t go over 1000 words. ‘Igor the dragon breathed in fire and blew it back out.’

“Isn’t that what Edward said in Midnight Sun? Stephenie Meyer. Really? That book was just released.”

“I know. I borrow from the best.” I’m reading it now. Didn’t Stephen King say that if you don’t read, you shouldn’t try to write. “Not quite the quote. So what Steven King book are you going to ‘borrow’ from? It, The Green Mile, or Pet Sematary.

“Listen. He opened his fiery jaw and extinguished the knight in one exhale. He was just trying to say hello and make a friend out of a lifelong enemy.”

“No. Next.”

“Whew! You’re a tough audience. Ok, let me try this next prompt.

An interplanetary prospector has found something unusual. He excavates deep in a cave and finds a time capsule inside.”

“Yawn.”

“Just wait! This is like Edgar Allan Poe’s short story, “The Tell-Tale

Heart.” ‘You fancy me mad.’”

“Oh, so you haven't finished stealing.”

“No, I am not stealing. I'm using this story for inspiration.”

“Gee. A new euphemism for stealing. What’s in the time capsule?”

“Is it a horror story? A deep psychotic profile into the mind of a troubled narrator?”

“Stop! Now I’m sorry I mentioned Poe. So, listen, there's a small box and inside it a piece of paper folded into eight tiny squares. On the paper there's a cryptic message #hashtag.

“Is that supposed to be clever or funny? I'm not quite sure.” “You didn't get it. It suggests a new civilization where de-evolved humans have mutated into mindless creatures driven by zero consciousness.”

“Ugh! Now I'm bored, angry, and even a bit confused. On to the next one please.”

“Ok, a small-time criminal will get a reward for turning in higher profile ones. I’m going to write it in the style of Agatha Christie, Alfred Hitchcock or like Rod Serling’s The Twilight Zone.”

“Ooh, goodie. you're inspired again. Submitted for my disapproval.”

“And you’re sarcastic, again. You know there's a twist of course.”

“But of course.”

“The twist is that the other criminals are on to him and find a way to get him to leave his DNA at the scene of the crime. So, when the police show up after he makes an anonymous phone call, he’s the one who gets arrested and serves a sentence for a crime he didn't even commit.”

“I don't like it. The twist is too predictable. It’s not clever and I am not amused. This contest is not for you. I’m not sure you have the writing ability to pull it off.” When have you ever won a writing contest? Nevermore.”

“Hey, I thought you were my friend!”

“You don’t need a friend. You need somebody who can help you write right. Now, that’s clever! I'm going to bed now. That somebody's not going to be me. Goodnight.”

“I guess I'll have to create my own prompt. Writers should write from that place deep inside where they can expose the raw essence of their true feelings. You should never be afraid to reveal yourself to the reader. I'll just write my best story about my best life.”

I limped into the bathroom peering into the mirror. I traced my fingers across the black and blue bruises on my cheeks. I blinked. “I really shouldn’t talk to myself. I’m my own worst enemy. Nevermore. Not funny.” Back in the kitchen, I grabbed the small black book by the toaster oven to reread the first line of the story I had already written. Was I brave enough to continue my story? I read the opening lines:

A broad downward slice of the cleaver forced a tsunami of gushing blood from his torso. I rubbed my face where his blow had landed a moment ago. I stepped over his motionless body and reached for my cell. I scrolled through my phone to enter 911. In my feed I noticed the link for a writing contest. Wow! I love writing contests. I can do this! I have two more days. I clicked on it and proceeded to the website. Great! A flash short story entry. I’ll be finished before they arrive.

The writer uploaded her entry and exhaled. She unwrapped the tea towel from her thigh and found it saturated with the gel of coagulating blood. She gasped, “Stephen King was right. ‘Fiction is the truth inside the lie.’” She gasped, fell to her knees, and passed out beside the dead body. In the far distance, the shrill sound of sirens permeated the quiet night.