Josh J. Holinaty

Thanks to all who’ve made submissions to our ultra-short fiction contest. Writers were asked to produce a 150-word fictional story using just one of the literary themes found in Tolstoy’s War and Peace: self-sacrifice and self-indulgence, anguish and ecstasy, diplomacy and deception, or religion and perdition. Three itsy bitsy literary classics (see below) were selected by our panel of bookish judges (associate editor of Freehand Books Melanie Little, arts and lifestyle editor Drew Anderson and editor-in-chief Ian Doig). Each will receive a $25 gift certificate from Pages on Kensington and a bottle of wine from Kensington Wine Market. Stories by the runners-up can be read at ffwdweekly.com.

First place

Horse thief

Theme: self-sacrifice and self-indulgence

BY CHRIS WILLARD

I stole the pony, red with burning eyes and fierce nostrils, a real bucking machine. And I rode, boy did I ride! Full saddle, side astride, even backwards! That's how good I was. See, stealing ponies is not that difficult a job. You sneak up, you stay in shadows with your back to the wall. It's critical to be sly but not too sly, natural. You identify a stallion, one with a saddle perhaps, with bright yellow reins. You glance, twice, and quick as lightning you rush up. You knock off the rider. No remorse. Then you ride it. I rode it. Rode it like the wind. Until the music ended and they caught me. Three years in the pokey because the kid broke his arm when I yanked him off. What was a seven-year-old doing on a carousel anyway? He couldn't ride worth beans.

Second place

The Pretenders

Theme: self-sacrifice and self-indulgence

BY  R. JONATHAN CHAPMAN

On the first step I thought about our first Halloween. Me the globe to your Magellan. Derek laughing and constantly bumping my inflatable belly so you could wear a fur collar and codpiece. On the second step I remembered the mealy squishiness of that lentil chipotle salad I had to eat when I met your friends from Queens. On the third step I felt once more a hundred watching eyes, all grins and snapping pictures, as we skipped and sang in a certain Austrian gazebo.

And that’s why I turned and left without ringing the bell. Not because I knew you wouldn’t marry me, but because the pain of losing you would ultimately be offset by the irony of the reason why: because, despite my many sacrifices, I knew, deep down, that you would never put on a costume just for me.

Third place

The bath

Theme: religion and perdition

BY JANE KUBKE

Larry was tired of his caregiver. She smelled like fish, she scurried off to pray 15 times a day, and she was small-boned and couldn’t lift him. She got all squirrely when it came time to get him out of the bath.

“This is no barrel of laughs for me either,” he grumbled, adjusting the washcloth over his privates. She gave him a wounded look and seemed to withdraw her whole face into her headscarf. “Don’t get sore,” he said. “Just help me!”

She took a breath as if she were about to jump in, and plunged her small hands under his arms and pulled. Larry tried to push against the enamel with his feet, but the legs he could barely feel were useless. “Shit,” he said, slapping the water.

She twisted the towel into a rope and held one end out to him. “Hold,” she said. “I pull you.”

Ultra-short fiction contest runners-up

Anguish

Theme: Anguish and ecstasy

BY JAIME CALDWELL

As the white wine on her bedside table lost its chill, she considered the buzzing above her head. A housefly on the ceiling flicked his wings like he knew. Like he sensed his presence was an undeniable sign of spring. She thought about her childhood perception of this time of year. How she had always imagined a springtime fairy waving her magical wand and bringing flowers, sun and hope to people everywhere in a single swift motion.

She had been trained early to believe that spring is when your faith is returned to you. This was the lie of optimists, not the truth of realists. She had given spring a chance so many times. She knew that promise never survived the cold. She could not bear the buzzing any longer. She drew a bath and submerged herself inside. With one flick of her wand, she brought winter back early.

Loose leaf tea

Theme: Self-sacrifice and self-indulgence

BY Travis Shaw

“I only drink loose leaf tea,” he overheard her say in the other room. “Anything else just totally throws me out of balance.”

Christ, he thought, here she goes. Next, she’ll be telling them all about her undiagnosed wheat allergy.

They were having people over for drinks, new people. We’ve got to meet new people, she had said. So, at his last poker game, he invited a couple guys and their girlfriends over. Drinks were poured, jokes were made, and then, predictably, the guys migrated into the living room to watch hockey highlights, while the women stayed in the kitchen. He was soon regretting it.

The friends made their excuses and left before 11.

“They seemed really nice,” she said, sitting on the couch. “Too bad Julie’s got to work early tomorrow.”

All he could do was finish his beer and sigh.

He didn’t go to poker the next week.