'A Complete History of Me' by Nan Wigington

By -
One smelled of Russia. One smelled of tobacco. Two kissed in Kansas. One had two boys, five girls. One lost his job, came home drunk. Two fought. All the way through The Great Depression. One boy became a preacher, one a soldier. Two held their wives – one in his arms, one over the Missouri. Three girls became maids. Two quit, married. One was raped, never married. And five nieces, four nephews later, I find out that it is her I'm named after. 

Comments

  1. Anonymous25 June 2016 at 14:29

    What a summary! Great compression of family identity. Wish I'd written it! Love your writing, Nan!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Gay Degani25 June 2016 at 17:40

    Gorgeous piece!!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Hillary25 June 2016 at 19:20

    Nan! Loved this piece! You are brilliant!!!

    ReplyDelete
  4. Hillary25 June 2016 at 19:21

    Nan! Loved this piece! You are brilliant!!!

    ReplyDelete
  5. Linda27 June 2016 at 18:12

    I. Love. This. It's a tiny story poem with a punch at the end. The repetition is wonderful. And I LOVE those first 3 lines! I agree with Anne - this is something I wish I'd written.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The waters are rising - Get to your posts!

By -
Yes, it's that time again. We're back and we're getting ready to flood the internet with flash-fictions to celebrate National Flash-Fiction Day on Saturday 16th June 2018.

The rules are the same as ever, we are open for submissions for just one week. Stories should be no more than 500 words (not including the title) and should be on whatever theme you fancy. You can submit up to three entries, and there is no cost.

7 editors (one each day) will read your work, and make their decisions, and then the deluge begins at midnight on the 16th.

Full submission guidelines can be found at http://flashfloodjournal.blogspot.com/p/submission-guidelines.html.

So far, this journal has had over 409,000 views, and we want to hit the half a million mark if we can. So, get writing, and send us your very best.

We can't wait to read them!


The Editors
FlashFlood


Read more

FlashFlood Advent Calendar 2018: Day 1

By -
Image
Day 1: Beginnings and Endings
Welcome to the FlashFlood Advent Calendar!  Today we bring you the first of twenty-five days of flashy prompts, so it's fitting that we're thinking about beginnings....

*

You know those amazing first lines, the ones that grab you by the throat and don't let go of you until you've read the rest of the story (and even then they linger)?  Things like:

“The road is covered in ghost.”—Jane Monson, 'The Unmended',Speaking Without Tongues“Those who don't know any better come into our neighborhood scared.” —Sandra Cisneros, 'Those Who Don't', The House on Mango Street“Peony has whiskers; she has a pointy face and a tail made out of blue raffia; she's messing about in boats and dabbling-up-tails-all, and I am in love.” —C.G. Menon, 'Watermelon Seeds',Love Across A Broken Map: Short Stories from The Whole Kahani“To lift yourself out of a miserable mood, even if you have to do it by strength of will, should be eas…
Read more

'Fall for Me' by Rhoda Greaves

By -
I’m going to ask her tonight, definitely. Dad said, you’re not even twelve son, what’s next – extra pocket money for johnnies? Mum told him not to be vulgar, then smiled at me; that smile that makes me want to yank her to the knees by the hair: shout, I’m not a baby, Mum.

It’s in the sports hall like always, but this year they’ve got a proper DJ, not just one of the dads. There she is, all curled hair and sprayed-on glitter. I go to tap her shoulder, but James and Jeremy, in the opposite corner, look at me all, why are you going up to a girl? So, before she turns around, I jump on her back: mime a lasso at them one-handed. Dig my knees into her skinny hips and breathe in marshmallows. Then I’m falling forwards. I put out my hands but my landing is broken. I roll off. And her blood’s on my knees. More of it trapped in the grooves of my trainers.

What happened? says Mr Miller, with a face like a father’s instead of a Head’s.

And she looks at me through the bloodied fingers at her nose. …
Read more