Use the photograph above as the inspiration for your flash fiction story. Write whatever comes to mind (no sexual, political, or religious stories, jokes, or commentary, please) and after you PROOFREAD it, submit it as your entry in the comments section below.
Welcome to the Indies Unlimited Flash Fiction Challenge. In 250 words or less, write a story incorporating the elements in the picture at left. The 250 word limit will be strictly enforced.
Please keep language and subject matter to a PG-13 level.
Use the comment section below to submit your entry. Entries will be accepted until Tuesday at 5:00 PM Pacific Time. No political or religious entries, please. Need help getting started? Read this article on how to write flash fiction.
On Wednesday, we will open voting to the public with an online poll so they may choose the winner. Voting will be open until 5:00 PM Thursday. On Saturday morning, the winner will be recognized as we post the winning entry along with the picture as a feature.
Once a month, the admins will announce the Editors’ Choice winners. Those stories will be featured in an anthology like this one. Best of luck to you all in your writing!
Entries only in the comment section. Other comments will be deleted. See HERE for additional information and terms. Please note the rule changes for 2018.
“I’m guessing you’re a patriot.”
“A patriot? I wouldn’t say that. It’s not like I’m fighting in a war. It takes guts to do that. To climb into an aeroplane, not knowing whether you’ll come home.”
“But it’s your choice of clothing. The stars and stripes. Old Glory. The Star-Spangled Banner.”
“The American flag. But what of it?”
“What of it? That’s the whole point. It’s everything. It’s what you get up for in the morning. It’s the apple pie that your dear old mom made. It’s Hollywood, capitalism, and the American Dream. It’s Washington and his hatchet. It’s the cherry tree he chopped down. It’s Fred and Ginger, Johnny Cash and John Wayne. It’s Springsteen, Rambo, the Fourth of July. It’s Punxsutawney Phil and Times Square. It’s Mount Rushmore, Alcatraz, and Liberty. It’s every single one of those and many more. It’s our homeland, the land of opportunity, the New World. It’s America. It’s who we are, whether it’s for good or bad. Fair or foul. It completes us and brings us together. It defines us, one and all.”
“This? I’m wearing it because it’s hard-wearing and durable. Made to last. I’m taking part in a cookout after the parade’s gone past. I don’t want to feel like I can’t muck in, splash a little ketchup on my fries and drink beer. It’s comfortable wear. But what about you? What’re you wearing?”
“Oh, this? I think it’s Donna Karan. But I wouldn’t like to guess where it was made.”
Fashion
After a discreet conversation with the professor only referencing happy topics, I was still uncertain if she fully understood.
Casually, I hovered around the class, to check if her lesson would be upbeat and inspiring. Once more she opened in an unconventional way, “If you were a fashion, what would you be? Me? Always, I have felt that I have pure gypsy in my blood with some white witch thrown in for fun. So I would wear colourful clothes, numerous scarves, gypsy earrings, talk in a far away sing-song voice and charge ridiculous sums for palm readings.
“Some people have absolutely no fashion sense. So dreadful that I had to watch an outdoor show once, with a spectator in loud patriotic wear. It was as though he had squeezed his overweight body into tight USA flag shorts. Most dreadful. Clueless how distasteful he actually looked displaying so much raw flesh. If that was not insulting enough, his date was dressed prettily and made him look even more ridiculous. Shocking, but I do think…”
Someone broke in on the professor’s thoughts, knowing that she had a tendency to talk forever, “Well, I would invent my own fashion. It would be peaceful, all natural grasses and one with a balanced universe. My fashion would be Mother Nature meets Miss Conservation. We live in such uncertain times, that my choice of fashion colour would be a most tranquil green.”
Hearing the word “tranquil” I walked away, longing to preserve my own inner peace.
ELIGIBLE FOR EDITORS CHOICE ONLY
Title: No P in Fashionable
“How do you spell fashionable?”
“Why?”
“I was wondering if I was fashionable last night. Forget it, it’s not important. I thought you said I looked good in my cowboy hat.”
“Yes, I did. To be more precise, I said, ‘you gave a new perspective to a cowboy hat.’”
“So, isn’t it fashionable enough to wear?”
“You’re wearing it, so let it go.”
“Yes, I am. I must be making an impression, as that pretty lady over there is taking my picture.”
“Our picture.”
“You should show her the picture you took of me last night.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why?”
“It wasn’t fashionable.”
“I had your earrings on.”
“Your stars and stripes might have made a difference, but just; sunglasses, earrings, bracelet, necklace and a cowboy hat, doesn’t make fashionable.”
“Who says? You seemed impressed enough last night.”
“I guess I just like ‘strange’ cowboys.”
“Let me borrow your phone, and I’ll show her my cowboy P…spective.”
“Ain’t no way!”
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”
“There’s no ‘P’ in ‘fashionable,’ okay?”
“I don’t get it?”
“I’m sure you’re not the only one.”
FASHION
“Well, I knew you would be easy to find in the crowd!” Angie yelled above the noise of those gathered.
“What does that mean?” John smiled.
“You always wear the coolest outfits! Have to stand out, don’t you?!”
“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.” John handed her a beer.
“Never! Besides, the outfit is perfect for the Fourth. Red, white, and blue.”
John grabbed her waist and twirled her like they were on a dance floor. Angie laughed aloud.
Standing in front of him and pointing to her outfit, she said “Looks like I am underdressed for the occasion. Next time we’ll have to coordinate our outfits.”
“I love you in whatever you wear or don’t.” He winked and tipped his Stetson.
“What makes you so interested in fashion anyway?” she asked.
He pondered a moment. “I think all those years of growing up the poor kid wearing hand-me-downs and thrift store finds, I just want to feel good in what I wear. Now instead of laughing at me, people applaud my choices. I get to be the cool kid.”
“I can see that. Well, I have a work thing coming up. Think you might be able to help me find something fashionable to wear?”
“I think it will be easy to make you the standout! Do I get to come too?” he asked.
“Ok, but let’s talk first about what you might be wearing.”
Fashion Statements- A Manifesto For Humanity in Era of Big Government and Political Correctness
Welcome ladies and gentlemen. It’s an honour to be able to speak to you this evening on a matter of grave importance. I know, you are thinking: The world has it up to here with grave matters. War; The Environment; Raccoons in the City. I do not want to minimize those crucial concerns. By some measure they trump anything I might be troubled about. But you and I know we humans can usually walk and chew tobacco at the same time.
That’d right! Tabaccy!
I do chew it. And I know there is considerable opposition to the habit. It can rot your mouth, cause a cancerous blight on your tongue and impede your ability to swallow fine liquor over time.
Be that as it may, I am here to tell that this country was built on the premise that we could do what we wanted to as long as no one was impaired by our behaviour. YET, I say YET, there is a movement afoot to control what we wear. Some jurisdictions are decreeing what you can wear in the water. My God, we were born naked. Yes, I fully support the wearing of clothes, clothes of your own choosing. And if you should decide to go naked, that is your right.
Wear what you want, and to paraphrase that deceased Canadian politician, Pierre Trudeau, The State has no business in the wardrobes of the nation.
When Uncle Cory announced they’d be going to the rodeo, Basil had been as excited as his cousins. Although he was aware his images of a rodeo came from old movies and children’s stories, he was looking forward to the excitement of watching calf roping, barrel racing, bull riding, and other traditional events.
To be honest, he really liked dressing up after so many days of grimy work shirts and jeans as he rode the range with his cousins or helped Uncle Cory in the corrals and the various outbuildings. It was neat to be admired by some girls who weren’t cousins, and he started to strut a little as he climbed the steps to the bleachers.
As the events progressed, Basil noticed one man standing at the edge of the arena. Although dressed casually, in red-white-and-blue bib coveralls with no shirt underneath, this individual had gained the attentions of a pretty young thing.
Curious, Basil nudged his cousin David, indicating the subject of his curiosity.
David’s eyes went wide and he hissed a warning. “That Bob Dandry, and he’s the owner’s brother. You really don’t want to attract his attention.”
Basil shivered under the hot sun beating down on the bleachers. Even in the isolation of Sparta Point, its role as the base of his father’s fighters provided enough experience to recognize trouble when he saw it.
Better keep a closer eye on his girl cousins, if that kind of troublemaker was around.