flash contest

Our February 2024 Flash Contest was based on Prompt #291 (provided by Stone Soup intern Sage Millen), which asked that participants write a story about a person discovering a secret passageway. Characters stumbled upon doors to incredible lands of zombies, witches, and mermaids. They found staircases in trees, tunnels in garbage cans, and a golden elixir that prevents aging. In one submission, a man in a green suit took the main character to a land of misfit creatures. As always, thank you to all who participated, and please keep submitting next month! In particular, we congratulate our Honorable Mentions, listed below, and our Winners, whose work you can appreciate below. Winners “Hole in the Ground” by Angelina Chen, 12 “The Stars” by Xi Huang, 11 “Sewer Rats” by Alborz Yousefi Nooraie, 12 “Wake Up” by Vanaja Raju, 12 “Passage” by Chris Yihan Ye, 12 Honorable Mentions “The Hidden Truth” by Rayansh Bhargava “The Search for the Past Life” by Hope Dekkers, 13 “The Gateway” by Yuna Jung, 10 “The Enchanted Pathway” by Miya Ma, 8 “Shattered Land” by Adam Xu, 11 Hole in the Ground ANGELINA CHEN, 12 “Fine, I hate you too,” Len hissed with feral eyes. His mother and father stood before the television, his father’s hand on his console’s plug. Len clutched the edges of the couch, trying to burn a hole through his parents while sinking into the sofa cushions. “Len, buddy, we never said we hated you; we just told you to turn off the PS5—” “I was only on it for like, what, twenty minutes? I don’t want to grow up as one of those nerdy kids with no life,” Len shrilled, looking from his console to his parents. “Two hours. You’re glued to this thing, Len.” “Shut. Up. I’m perfectly fine,” with a leap, he bounced off the couch and rushed into the dining room, shutting the door behind him. Muffled pleas echoed through the closed door, which Len promptly ignored, moving toward the door. His hands shook from adrenaline, his brain struggling to escape his game. Maybe you were on for too long, he guessed. No. He shook his head. Of course not; your parents are never correct. His feet hit the edge of the “welcome” carpet, curled up in the corners that never stayed down no matter what. Len reached down, pushing away boots, high heels, and slippers until he dug out a pair of running shoes. “They…” Off came the first lace. “Don’t…” Off came the second lace. “Love…” On came the left shoe. “Me.” On came the right shoe. Len kicked the door open, laces still loose, the frigid air slicing into his exposed arms. The faint hoot of a bird welcomed his entrance outside, the light inside spilling out into the blue night. Len stared, wondering if he was too confident with his thinking. The contrast in temperatures started to get to him as he stood there, freezing his body, and he knew he had to think fast. On one side of his head, every survival instinct in his body screamed at him to go back inside, but on the other, it offered something better: freedom, feeling worthy. Then, in the middle of his imaginary debate, the dining room knob squeaked, along with the faint sound of “Len?” The sound of his name burned him, and he ran. Silence glimmered in the night like a melting candle, owls’ hoots filling up the sky. “I don’t need them anyway,” Len grumbled, though he wasn’t sure. His feet burned, and every step hurt more than the last. I should take a break. His tired legs felt relief at the remark, only now figuring out he had been running for over an hour. No, I have to get as far as possible. I can’t let them find me. Though he could mentally hear the groans in his ankles, he pushed forward, setting pain aside as weakness. “I don’t need them, I don’t need them, I don’t need–” A sudden absence of ground cut off his rant, throwing him off balance. He screamed out, yelling for help, the sensation of falling rushing toward his head. He was falling, hands scrambling to find the walls of the ditch, but all he could feel was the wind blowing past his face. He felt his throat grow hoarse, and he stopped, knowing he needed to save his breath if he wanted to survive. His eyes closed in silence, letting the darkness decide his fate. … “What is that?” “I think it’s one of those ‘humans’ mum talks about.” “It’s so ugly.” “Says you.” “Huh?” Len felt his eyes inch open, barely awake, the rest of his body asleep. “Eek! It talked!” Len could hear the voices now, one high, one just plain ear-bleeding. His limbs felt detached from his body while his head throbbed, the only indication he was alive. “Whoa, that’s so cool! I wonder if it can learn tricks,” the ear-bleeding voice squealed noisily, with Len too tired to punch the squeaky creature. “Lija, it’s not a pet. It’s just another “intelligent lifeform,” whatever that means,” Len felt something soft shift under his arms, probably a blanket, and he was off the ground. “Poor thing, it just needs to regain its strength.” Even half-sleeping, Len could feel the other creature roll its eyes. He burned with questions, but he decided to save those for later. He was alive, but he didn’t know if he would stay alive. “Floilu, you have to loosen up. When it learns how to roll over, you’ll forgive me immediately,” the shrill voice responded with a hint of dreaminess. Len would’ve thrown up if he was fully awake. Lija and Floilu, huh? Just thinking about the names gave Len chills, distracting him from the pain. It was unbearable, and he wished he was still unconscious just to feel normal. He eventually let the gentle sway of whatever the two creatures were doing lull him back to the darkness,