Here’s a flash piece written for a contest I did not win. I incorporated two pieces of feedback in this update. What you need to know about those pieces of feedback: I still can’t keep track of time. It’s nothing new, but maybe it’s new that I understand how it connects my writing and my life in subtle ways no one has ever been able to explain to me.
Born in Quarantine
Sam’s giant father never allowed her outside; it was too dangerous. Jenny wasn’t sure how she’d arrived in the cottage, but, to her relief, Sam had not challenged her escape plan.
The two teenagers broke the pane of a window with a hammer and then sawed through the wooden separators. Sam had placed a towel over the frame to protect them. Jenny was careful with her paper-thin wings as she crawled through, chuckling about her mother complaining everyone wants a fairy godmother instead of doing the work themselves.
They moved fast, but Sam’s father opened the door as Sam landed outside. Jenny flashed the saw at him before jumping out the window to let him know she’d saw through him, too. She held Sam’s hand and dashed into the woods.
Take care of each other.
Change is the only constant.
And a million other stock statements you expect me to say because I probably am muttering them in my sleep these days.