So the results are in from the second round of the NYC Midnight Flash Fiction contest, and my story didn’t rate high enough for me to go on to the next level, although it was close — of the top fifteen writers, the top five get to move on, and I was number seven. I think I’m okay with that. The pressure is off, and placing seventh at least means that the judges liked it. I’m interested in the feedback, but of course, I know the results are subjective.
I played with formatting in this piece, farting around with the narrative in an unconventional way. Those with whom I’ve already shared it have given me some great comments, and I was happy with the end result, although I think it would have been better with text boxes.
Anyhoo, it’s now yours to enjoy! The flash fiction begins below . . .
Now That’s What I Call Sushi
Staying awake in school detention is challenge enough, but what happens when one of the students provides an unexpected, illicit, and unhealthy form of entertainment? Not even the supervising teacher is willing to intervene with an epic dare involving dissection tissue!