April Flash Fiction Challenge

30 days. 30 prompts. 30 Words.

Announcing our April Flash Fiction Challenge! 

Down in the deepest of waters, where pages of rejected manuscripts lie as fodder on the seabed, and the white screens of blank documents illuminate a basin dark from words, sit courageous writers polishing their pearls of sentences and paragraphs. In commemoration of Writers Victoria 30th Anniversary, we are holding a Flash Fiction Challenge during April that will be exploring these deep waters! With prompts recognising the gruelling process of creating pearls from grit and prose from ideas, we have 30 days of prompts and writing. Write, submit and share by midnight, every night of April, for your chance to win a Writers Victoria 30th Anniversary tote bag! Of these, the most grit-worthy submission will win a free ticket to a workshop of their choice run by Writers Victoria.

Congratulations to our first week of winners! 

April 1: GRIT
I was born of the mountain. A million years to move from grandeur to insignificance. I’ll force you to acknowledge me, you’re chosen, yes you, I’m settling in your shoe. — Tony Messenger

Cruelly cutting into my flesh, squeezing tight. Why does it have to hurt so much? Is it really necessary? Causing constant pain at every chance, nothing but irritation. Underwire bra.— Michelle Weitering

April 3: DIVING 
This is harder than I expected. Shaky hands and waves of nausea, rolling, crashing. I need to get my brave on, dive in. A deep breath: hold— and click submit. — Allison Black

Every morning, Grandpa tastes the salt lake. Still haunted, he growls, spitting brine.
By what?
Oh, a lady I met, long ago.
After Grandpa passes, I taste the water. Fresh.— Grace Chan

April 5: RARE
The beast steadied her feet, flexed her neck and let out a long, melancholic cry… A song of sure solitude and knowing that she was the last of her kind. — Penny Smits 

April 6: FREEDOM
Joseph realised he had lost all sense of rationality and personal freedom when the online bidding war ended. He lived in a studio apartment, where would he keep an elephant? — Ashara Fernando

The serpent rises from the ocean seabed and looms over the pirate ship. Captain Cutthroat battles to right the hefty vessel. A voice calls, “Out of the bath now, Johnny.” — Andrea Barton

April 8: BAROQUE
Rae stopped me mid-trill.
"Your palm must be a nest for the music bird. Here; like this." She repositioned my fingers over the harpsichord, ready to butcher Bach once more. — Paula Hanasz


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