QuickFic 05/06/15: The Winner

Well now. That was extremely wonderful.

As you’ll recall, we asked for teeny-tiny 250 word stories inspired by this image:

qf25_799

We had lots of brilliant entries. We always do, of course, but this week was particularly lovely. Even the seemingly grumpy entry about “Sea. Sand. All that… horizony stuff” turned out to be a charming little vignette about love.

But a winner we require, for there are books to be re-homed.

So here those QuickFic winners are:

RUNNER-UP: Tim Roberts

String Theory

Last week she noticed a loose thread hanging in the air. It brushed her arm as she entered the end cubicle in the cinema toilets. Pinching it between her fingernails, she teased it lightly and it began lengthen. She kept pulling at it until it came to an end and dropped to the floor where it lay like a technicolored piece of wool. Hmmmm, she thought as she picked it up and flushed it down the bowl.

Over the next few days spacetime began to unravel. Objects began to fall upwards; things that were broken became whole again. Language disappeared as sound waves mutated between speaker and listener. She watched reality crumble around her, unable to tell anyone what she had done even if she had wanted to.

One bright morning, which broke somewhere around the time that the middle of the night should have been, she took a trip to the beach. Yesterday this place had been a boarded up high street; today it was all soft sands, endless skies and glittering seas. She skipped along watching the beach morph to a deep blue and the sky turn yellow. As she did, she held her umbrella high above her head — you could never be sure when it might rain these days.

 

WINNER: Jemima Warren

The Umbrella

He said that I’d need the umbrella for the rain. Instead, in that tucked in part of the coast where we spent the week, I carried it as a parasol. I wished I had a white cotton dress, and a dangling string of pearls. I wished I had a small leather-bound book too. I wanted to sit on the beach, sun-browned, content and idle, turning its gilt-edged pages.

The sun shone all day, as high and proud as his sureness about the weather had been, and as each day passed I found it harder to believe in the cold. Just as I shook out sand from the umbrella’s folds, I was expanding. I had been a closed in, spokey sort of a thing. In the sunshine I could be another thing altogether. I knew that if I said this out loud he would tell me – again – that metaphors suited people who couldn’t name the truth, who were too meek to say it aloud.

I laid the umbrella against my knees on the train home. It had probably come to me second-hand, like all knowledge tends to do. But now it stood for the things – all the other things – he’d told me that were wrong.

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Congratulations, Tim and Jemima! And thanks to all who took part.

See you next week!

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