I wrote this for the Brilliant Flash Fiction contestโa short story in less than 500 word on the theme: Aftermath. It was a bit of a cheat really since they specifically didn’t want poetry and this comes damn close. The phrases don’t rhyme, but they follow a strict meter that you can hear if you read it aloud. To spare you the effort, I’ve broken it down here into lines, so it doesn’t look like a story anymore, but you get the idea.
Needless to say it didn’t win and only made the long list, but I was pleased it was accepted at all. You can read the winning stories here. The first prize is about a fox, so you can’t say fairer than that.
ย
He told her it was over, heโd be gone before the morningโฆ
so she took him by the hand, and she led him through the garden,
and she sat him down beside her on the bank beneath the alders,
where the dog fox, like a shadow, slipped, and river water murmured.
She pointed through the branches to the stars that filled the night sky,
at the multitude that clustered, burning bright so deep above them,
and she asked him did he think they cared a jot that he was leaving;
would the light of even one of them burn lower for her grieving?
Then she listened to the river, to the lapping of the wavelets,
that the night wind brushed in wrinkles, running blackly through the rushes,
and she asked if when the whales roll through the green depths of the ocean,
and the seals guide lonely dead souls to the islands in the sea mists,
would his words then have more substance than the laughter of a seagull?
He sat in sullen silence, eyes cast down to where his fingers
twisted idle stalks of kingcups, plucked their petals, golden showers,
so he did not see the stars nor did he care how many watched him,
as he plucked the yellow petals, scattered gold among the rushes.
He could not hear the river, with her words that rang so loudly,
when heโd thought to see her flounder in the high seas of his leaving,
see the world he gave her crumble, dry dust blowing in the storm wind,
and her dull eyes full of weeping, no reflected light to bask in,
for heโd taken back his aura and the sunshine of his smile.
In the silence of his answers, she took from her slender finger
the gold ring and held its roundness, so she saw the stars behind it,
silver fish in inky waters. Like a well, run dry and empty,
it was hollow as a dead tree, and she cast it in the river
where the trout would nose the glitter of a circle made of sunlight
that was bright as any minnow but without a heartโs pulse in it.
She heard his parting footsteps through the rushes and the kingcups,
and she raised her head to count the stars that glittered in the sky.
Through her tears that made a sea of silver water of their glimmer,
not a one she saw was dimmer though his love had shrunk away,
so she wiped away her sadness, and she plucked a golden kingcup,
while a vixen called the dog fox from among the starlit alders.
She listened to the beauty of the foxesโ wild, sweet love song,
as eternal as the river running ever to the sea,
like the stars that guide the grey gull to the isles where dreams are mended,
and she set her face to morning with the fierce, red dawn light breaking,
kingcups twisted in her hair and all loveโs sorrow stripped away.
Personally, I don’t understand why you didn’t win. Your verse wooed me from the first line, and I was mesmerized throughout. A beautiful way of describing the process of an ‘aftermath’ for lovers, in which for at least one, eternity now lives.
Ah, thank you! That’s a lovely compliment, but I imagine the judge saw it more as verse than prose, which is fair enough as it is, sort of. Not much action and no dialogue ๐
It probably would have won FIRST PRIZE in the 1900s, when verse was appreciated more than it is now. Yes, I enjoy a good story with action and dialogue, but I thought this piece had action in the deep immense meaning of the words. โค
You give me hope ๐ My writing style is very much like this, not the wham pow awesomesauce that is in vogue.
Jane you write so beautifully. And beneath the heartfelt colours and images, there is real truth and something to learn. Thank you for your velvet prose. And well done on making the long list! ๐ A great achievement. xxx
Thanks Fran ๐ I did write a ‘proper’ story for the contest, but didn’t enter it because I liked this one much better.
Wow, you made me cry!
Thank you, Alice! I’m pleased it had that effect ๐
I love this Jane, I think you should have won. Beautiful words which embroider such vivid imagery:)
I’m glad you like it Jacqueline ๐ But I admit it isn’t in the spirit of contemporary flash fiction and I didn’t expect to win. The rhythm just carried it away ๐
Just lovely. I can see it and feel it. (K)
Thank you ๐ I enjoyed writing this.
It’s such an emotional and amazing read. For me this is an award winning story.
I really enjoyed reading your site and hope you will share the mutual feeling at my site too.
It’s kind of you to say so ๐ I’ll certainly pop over to your site for a read.
Wow this was beautifully written! Thanks for sharing Jane ๐
If you have a second maybe you could check out my short story blog!
Take care
Thank you! I’ll do that, Steven.
Love the utter romance of this. And even without rhyme, you couldn’t resist internal rhyme. It reads like the lay of a medieval minstrel. So nice!
I’m glad you like this, Sarah. I did enjoy writing prose with rhythm, and it can be read perfectly easily as a poem too ๐