
What the judges had to say:
"Thought-provoking."
"Engaging.""Loved the perspective."
Meet Desiree:
The photo prompt:
an excerpt:
“Yes!” One giant leap from the subway platform lands me on the last train car. I swing the backpack off my shoulder, depositing worldly possessions at my feet. Whoosh! The train doors close. Wind whistles. I exhale. Grasping the metal pole, my twenty-year-old lanky body jerks with every rumble. Knees bounce. Ear buds snug, skinny jeans tight, bomber jacket loose. Staring at my crimson sneakers I see two months of waiter tips and macaroni and cheese dinners.
I spot you across the aisle. Your moving lips are out of sync with my playlist. I observe your daily complaint, flowing like molten lava, hot angry words cascading. The Barista mangled your name again. “Don’t they teach kids in school how to spell anymore?” A lip reader I am not, yet I get the message. The train chugs to a stop.
“No!” you exclaim, mouth pouting. Hot liquid tasted by your cashmere coat. Your disappointment soaked up by your companion. A condescending stare appraises my book bag. Our eyes lock. I hear your intake of breath - horrified by the colony of germs socializing on the bottom of my student backpack. You’re wondering why for the love of fashion do I spend good money on threadbare jeans; expose my bare knees, show my flattened pockets. You sip your jolt of caffeine, dab at the coffee stain, and yet you question my shopping habits. You’re drinking your savings away. You must have shares in coffee beans – given your daily investment...
[Read the second and third place stories]
Learn how you can participate in one of our Write-Prompt Flash Fiction Contests HERE
Order the next issue of Blank Spaces HERE
an excerpt:
I See You - Do You See Me?
by Desiree Kendrick
“Yes!” One giant leap from the subway platform lands me on the last train car. I swing the backpack off my shoulder, depositing worldly possessions at my feet. Whoosh! The train doors close. Wind whistles. I exhale. Grasping the metal pole, my twenty-year-old lanky body jerks with every rumble. Knees bounce. Ear buds snug, skinny jeans tight, bomber jacket loose. Staring at my crimson sneakers I see two months of waiter tips and macaroni and cheese dinners.
I spot you across the aisle. Your moving lips are out of sync with my playlist. I observe your daily complaint, flowing like molten lava, hot angry words cascading. The Barista mangled your name again. “Don’t they teach kids in school how to spell anymore?” A lip reader I am not, yet I get the message. The train chugs to a stop.
“No!” you exclaim, mouth pouting. Hot liquid tasted by your cashmere coat. Your disappointment soaked up by your companion. A condescending stare appraises my book bag. Our eyes lock. I hear your intake of breath - horrified by the colony of germs socializing on the bottom of my student backpack. You’re wondering why for the love of fashion do I spend good money on threadbare jeans; expose my bare knees, show my flattened pockets. You sip your jolt of caffeine, dab at the coffee stain, and yet you question my shopping habits. You’re drinking your savings away. You must have shares in coffee beans – given your daily investment...
to read the rest of this story, order your copy of the March 2019 issue of Blank Spaces
[Read the second and third place stories]
Learn how you can participate in one of our Write-Prompt Flash Fiction Contests HERE
Order the next issue of Blank Spaces HERE
0 comments