narrative

Our March Flash Contest was based on Prompt #194 (provided by contributor Molly Torinus), which challenged participants to craft a frame narrative—like a story within a story—for their submissions. This delightful prompt readily invited experimentation with form, and we weren’t disappointed—one story went “Behind the Scenes” to show the editing processes and inner workings of the story itself! Others ranged from riffs on creation myths to campground misadventures to conferences wherein time travelers presented on their unique eras. As always, thank you to all who submitted, and please submit again next month! In particular, we congratulate our Winners and our Honorable Mentions, whose work you can appreciate below. Winners “The Element” by Kimberly Hu, 9 (Lake Oswego, OR) “Speakers of the Past” by Sophie Li, 11 (Palo Alto, CA) “A Way Out” by Lui Lung, 12 (Danville, CA) “The Last Chapter” by Savarna Yang, 13 (Outram, New Zealand) “Nightbear” by Melody You, 11 (Lake Oswego, OR) Honorable Mentions “Useless Sidekick” by Dalia Figatner, 11 (Mercer Island, WA) “Hope and Amelia” by Noelle Kolmin, 10 (New York, NY) “How the Skunk Got Her Stripe and the Kangaroo Her Pouch” by Nova Macknik-Conde, 10 (Brooklyn, NY) “Behind the Scenes” by Emily Tang, 12 (Winterville, NC) “Earthquake in a Book” by Karuna Yang, 11 (Outram, New Zealand) Kimberly Hu, 9 (Lake Oswego, OR) The Element Kimberly Hu, 9 Xi smiled at Ari. The Story begins once upon a time, a long, long time ago. “Isn’t that how all stories start?” Ari asked curiously. Yes, Xi minded softly. But this long time ago is special. Her growing wrinkles creased into a sincerely joyful grin. “How?” You will know when you’re all grown up and you’ve matured. “But I am!” Ari went on her tiptoes in an attempt to look serious and tall. Xi smiled again, breathing hard, summoning up all the energy of her cursed immortality to express her once-beautiful face, wishing she could chuckle, laugh, talk, like a real great-great-great-and so on-grandmother would to her great-great-great-and so on-grandchildren. Oh, not quite yet. “Humph.” Ari folded her arms and pouted. Let me begin the story, Xi minded. “Okay,” Ari said, brightening up. Long ago, there was an Element. The Element that created the five you know: fire, water, air, and earth. That time, the world was nothing. Just nothing. But the nothingness grew restless, impatient, and weary, despite it being nothing. Suddenly, something bursted from the nothingness, shattering it to nonexistence. Nothing did not exist. There is always something, Ari. Always. Some people may say, “Oh, there’s nothing there.” But that’s never true. Since the bursting shone over nothingness, there has always been something. And what was that something? That something was that Element. It shone, it glittered, it glowed, it gleamed, it shimmered, dazzled, twinkled, sparkled, glimmered. That element found itself in the midst of darkness without the knowledge that it had created the darkness itself. Darkness is always the substitute. The alternate. When something disappears, darkness takes over. Apparently, well, the nothingness transformed into darkness. But it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. The Element was the only one that beamed into the darkness, laser-striking it to light. That was the second thing The Element created. Yes. Light. One does not need a wrench and some metals to create something, Arikalar. Nor a paintbrush and canvas or a pencil and paper. It’s cause and effect. It’s imagine and create. The Element’s birth had a purpose. Everything has purpose, Arikalar. Your home. Your trees. Your birthmark. Your sea. “Wow,” Ari breathed. Keep quiet, Ari. The Story is sacred. “Right. Right. Okay,” Ari cocked her head to one side curiously. From natural instincts, the one thing that came immediately when the nothingness held its breath for too long, like it was not yet powerful enough to overthrow the nothing nothingness, but it just would come on call. Nothingness…maybe you would consider nothingness as dreamless slumber, but you are wrong. In slumber, you still feel. You touch. You don’t realize it but you are almost painfully aware of your warm, safe bed. You don’t realize it is full of mindful and yet mindless danger. You don’t realize it but you are thinking, thinking. Maybe you would consider it not thinking at all but just resting your brain. You know that your brain is restless but your inner mind rests. You are wrong. Xi could tell from Ari’s expression that she was thoroughly confused; she looked as if she were being lectured, keeping scientific and knowledgeable thoughts in her mind for days. Maybe you’ll understand when you’re older. No, I’ll understand! I mean, I am understanding! Ari tried to say through her face. Xi shook her head, trembling, summoning her delicate spirit and soul, begging it to give her the last strength of her eternal painful, agonizing, and excruciating life. The Story must be passed on, she told herself. Mistakes of the past you learn from, old Xi. You forgive and forget. You must go on. Xi fought the urge to close her eyes and clear her innerly inner mind. She must pass the Story on. Going on was perhaps the most difficult of everything possible, which was almost impossibly great and vastly immense. Immortality was supposed to be a great gift and a great fortune, but she had led herself to its cursed power, she remembered. Let myself experience the pain of my selfish deeds, she told herself silently. Don’t be foolish. The greed for immortality is your most major mistake, and you must go on. Xi concentrated her mind and willed. She summoned the last of her curse ineffably. The inner mind. The nothingness. The somethingness. All utterly wordless. There are never enough words. Words are not for magic. Mind is for magic. Words are for survival. Suddenly a jolt of seeming unconsciousness struck Xi. Her expression faded abruptly, transformed into dull dead. So abruptly that Ari screamed incredibly high-pitched and gasped loudly, even though she knew that no one could hear. Dead. Her