A Whisper in the Dark | 500 words
The 500-word short story below received an Honorable Mention in the NYC Midnight contest, but some judges didn't get it. Time to weigh-in: clear... or confusing?
The entry below was my first experience with NYC Midnight, a virtual short story contest that draws thousands of participants throughout the year. In the first round, participants are put into groups of about 40 people and given 48 hours to submit a story in alignment with a prompt.
The specific contest I entered was a 500 word flash fiction contest. Writers in each small group are given a genre, a scenario, and a noun that must somehow factor into the story. Each group gets a different prompt. The story cannot be more than 500 words.
The prompt I got: Horror, attending a wedding, scones
All submitted stories are read and scored by a multiple judges (3-4). Only eight entries move forward to the next round. I was number 9, receiving an honorable mention. As flash fiction is new for me, I am pleased with this result.
However, I do have a question.
The feedback from some of the judges indicated a lack of understanding of the story’s twists—of which there are arguably two. I am undecided as to whether this is because the story is actually unclear and trying to do too much for the length or if the judges were just reading hurriedly and missed the nuances.
I would like to hear more opinions!
If you are so inclined, please leave a comment on this story telling me what you think it was about, i.e. what happened, or just what you think about it.
I would love restacks and shares to get as many opinions as possible.
This will help me to know if I need to give more hints and explanation in my writing or if not explaining and trusting the reader is the right call.
A Whisper in the Dark | 500 Words
500 word flash fiction entry in NYC Midnight | Honorable Mention
Marie went into the woods during the witching hour, when the veil thinned to porousness. Weeping, she knelt inside a circle of stones.
“This can’t be allowed. It’s not natural!”
She hung her head, hair trailing in the dirt.
“My ex-husband,” she croaked. “He’s marrying again.” Her lips trembled at the last, the words pitched high and soggy with grief. “He’s going to marry that… that thing.”
Contempt curdled the last word.
“It’s against God, isn’t it?” she sputtered. “It can’t be a real marriage if it’s not to a real woman.”
A harsh whisper reverberated inside her skull. “But you didn’t go to God, did you?”
She flinched and mouthed “no” into the darkness.
She had not gone to God.
Marie prepared scones in her kitchen by hand. Landon loved her scones. He had loved her pies too.
They had married right out of high school, not knowing themselves or each other, just two kids playing house. They’d fought all the time.
Still, she took the divorce hard. Landon had been the boy everybody wanted — tall and handsome, wild and free. She’d been the girl everybody wanted her to be — perky and pretty, dutiful and desperate, wanting only to be loved.
She’d been as perfect as she could be. She’d done everything right.
She mashed the dough with her fist.
It wasn’t her fault.
She was only human.
And now he was with that… that… she couldn’t think of a charitable word.
And oh, oh, how happy Landon looked now. She’d seen them together online, Landon and It, everyone marveling at their love for each other. His boyish smile had returned, laughter crinkling the corners of his eyes. Meanwhile, Marie’s simpers had sagged and wilted into permanent frown lines.
I’m so happy for you, she had typed when he tentatively reached out to invite her to the wedding.
Of course I’ll come. I’ll bring scones.
The wedding took place in the woods.
Landon held the cold hands of his bride under an arch of twisted branches bursting with wildflowers, vowing to love, honor, and cherish her for the rest of their days.
He had once said the same to Marie.
She couldn’t keep her lip from curling when the officiant said man and wife.
Man and something, she supposed, but not that.
At the reception, Marie personally brought Landon a scone.
The paramedics were called soon after people started vomiting. They asked her what happened, guessing she must know something, as she and the bride were the only two still standing by the time they arrived.
Marie did not respond at first.
She was listening to the whisper in her head, watching the bride turn in awkward circles around Landon’s dead body, a conscious but broken doll resplendent in a white Chantilly lace dress. Artificial tears dripped from glass eyes and rolled down crystalline cheeks.
Marie smiled.
“A devil made me do it.”
This is the feedback I'm looking for! It doesn't really matter as I am not planning to "do" anything with this story. But it is helpful to understand when the hints are not enough. Flash fiction strangles word count and it is a new medium for me. I've had some readers get everything but more than a few express some confusion or doubt.
I'll give the "answer" of what I was "trying for" in a week or so.
I admit to being confused as well. Here is what I am getting as twists- #1- he is marrying a doll #2- she poisoned him. My read is that she asked the stones (the not God) for help in her poisoning of the scones, but " a devil made me do it" did not enlighten anything for me. I will agree that 500 words is VERY short to try to twist anything!
Second thought- maybe it is a doll OF HER???