Flash Fiction Contest Underway!

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2023 Flash Fiction Contest Winners

2nd Place Award Winner:

Rescue, Out of This World
by Alice Wooten

The summer was coming to an end and school would start in a few weeks. Three years ago, when I was ten and my sister, Julie, was eight, Dad started an annual tradition of taking us on an end-of-the-summer, learning, camping trip. Dad was a middle school science teacher and there was a lesson in everything we did. He always had science experiments, magical tricks, and nature walks to identify foliage and wildlife. Fun adventures tempered with learning.

            “Well, kiddos, it’s time again for our camping weekend. James, you, and Julie may want to bring the new telescope we built this spring. I’m sure there’ll be some great constellations we can see with the clear skies we’ve been having.”

            Julie and I simultaneously shouted, “Yea!”

            We were at that glorious, nerdy age where we thought our parents knew everything, and it was fun to hang out with them. Oh, did I mention our dogs, Trixie and Russell, would be joining us on our trip. They were always up for an adventure.

            Mom would not be joining us. Although we had progressed from tents to an RV, she preferred to spend time with her younger sister, Aunt Taylor, while we enjoyed nature.

            Preparations began. Dad was a grill master, but Mom always packed a small feast. I think it eased her conscience to prepare a nice meatloaf or brisket and some great sides in case we failed to catch fish. She always included staples like chocolate chip cookies, brownies, and rice crispy treats.

            The big day arrived. Dad packed the RV, hooked up the trailer with our canoe,  and we headed out early Friday afternoon. We waved goodbye to Mom and Aunt Taylor and began the short, hour drive to a camping spot at a nearby lake. We passed several campsites but knew exactly where we wanted to stop.

            “Here it is kiddos, our special spot,” Dad announced.

            “Can we go fish, Dad?” I asked.

            “Yeah,” Julie chimed in.

            “Sure,” Dad agreed.

            We offloaded the canoe and within a few minutes, we were fishing.

            We caught enough fish for supper. Dad cleaned and grilled them. Coupled with Mom’s mac and cheese, they made a great supper. Dad suggested we make a small campfire and light our lanterns before we went for an evening near the center of the lake for a look at some constellations. We would wait for the telescope until tomorrow when we had more time to set it up.

            It would be dark by the time we got back, so we lit lanterns around the camp, tethered Trixie and Russell near the RV, and left the campsite ready-to-use when we returned. We took turns rowing the canoe, but Dad did most of it.  It was peaceful and quiet except for the crickets chirping, the frogs croaking, and the occasional trout splashing on the water’s surface. To offset the chill in the air, Julie and I wrapped ourselves with our blankets.

            As we headed back to the shore, we were awestruck by an eerie scene on shore from the “safety” of our canoe. Tall, I mean really tall, like over seven feet, extraterrestrial-like creatures grabbed our lanterns and started waving them around like they didn’t know how to use them.

            Our dogs were always friendly, but by the pitch of their barks, they were scared out of their doggie minds. They cowered under the RV and whimpered pitifully.

            My heart pounded, and my mouth was dry. The light from the fire and the lanterns was dim, but the creatures were visible.

            I screamed, “Look Dad, aliens!”

            Dad tried to stifle my scream, but it was too late. Despite still being a distance from the shore, my voice traveled across the water. The creatures heard me.  They quickly swung the lanterns higher to look toward the scream’s origin. The lanterns’ beams fell all around us. Shock and panic engulfed Julie and me as we quickly sought shelter under our blankets. 

            Dad instructed, “Be quiet.” Talk about a teaching moment.

            He started to row toward the shore to get a better view of the creatures. Probably other campers playing a prank. The human-like creatures walked closer to the water’s edge.  As Dad tried to evaluate the situation, anxiety overcame him, and he dropped both oars.  We were now literally up the lake without a paddle.

            Julie and I peeked from under our blankets. The creatures recognized our peril and huddled together as though deciding what to do about our predicament. There were three of them. Their stature was human-like, but their disproportionately large hands made it difficult for them to hold the lanterns upright.

            They put down the lanterns and pointed toward us. Our canoe started to gently rise above the water.  Supernatural indeed.  Julie and I were astonished and looked wide-eyed as we hovered several inches above the water. It was a gently lifting sensation and we steadily moved closer toward the shore.          As we reached the shore, Dad jumped out and pulled the canoe onto land. We were no longer suspended above the surface.

            The three creatures stood stoically and dropped their arms. Julie and I sat in a frozen state looking at each other. The dogs peeked from underneath the RV.

            The creatures backed away slowly. Always calm, Dad raised his hand and gave a friendly wave. They looked at each other and imitated Dad’s wave. They walked backwards until they were out of sight in the star-filled night.

            We calmed the dogs and huddled around the campfire to ascertain what we had witnessed. I was convinced it was one of Dad’s magic tricks, you know, like holograms. We waited for Dad to confess.

            Julie pointed to the sky and exclaimed, “Look Dad, a meteor!”

            “No,” Dad said, “Not a meteor. That’s the spacecraft of the friends who saved us tonight.”

            A chill ran down my spine.

            Maybe not holograms.

Honorable Mention Award Winner:

Song of the Siren

by Tiffany Seitz

“Excuse me, ma’am. We are arriving at your destination.”

Assana turned, smiling as she accepted the nervous sailor’s arm. He escorted her to the rusted railing.

“There ‘tis, ma’am.” The young man pointed at a brown lump of rock in the middle of a blue-gray sea. It was her first opportunity to view her new home. Her prison.

“Carter!” A shout came from behind her. “Return to your duties and leave this…creature be.”

The sailor protested, “But, sir—”

“You are dismissed, Mr. Carter.” Commander Evans closed in to supervise both his sailor and his prisoner. Assana kept her features neutral in light of his disapproval.

“Aye, sir.” An apology in his eyes, Seaman Carter bowed to her before following orders.

“You will not use your wiles on my men,” the commander growled, stepping to the rail and faced her.

She almost laughed, considering the ship sailed with a skeleton crew—a precaution deemed necessary by the court considering the passenger and her crime. Other than the captain and Mr. Carter, the sailors had stayed out of her view.

“That’s a shame, Captain,” she purred. “Mr. Carter was helpful in pointing out my newest abode.”

“It’s more than you deserve.” Evans glared at her. “Ten fine men are missing because of your feminine wiles, including my first lieutenant.” He shook his head. “You should have swung for your crimes. Confinement on a deserted island is too kind for the likes of you.”

The look in his eye served as a warning before he left her side.

She said nothing. Considered a danger to mankind, she faced exile for the disappearances. She’d been accused of their murders but couldn’t be convicted without evidence. The investigators and the prosecutors were most vexed by the realization that there were no bodies. But that didn’t stop the persecution. Neighbors, friends, people she’d never met came forth to bear witness to her alleged crimes. The all-male judge and jury determined her guilt and sentence within minutes based on a single thread of evidence found in her bed—a strand of wool matching one missing man’s coat.

The commander was the only volunteer to administer the sentence. Even his crew had been hesitant to join the mission. In his arrogance, the commander had promised double wages for the crossing. When enticement wasn’t successful, other incentives were employed.

The wind whipped at her full skirts and pinned hair as she watched the looming island draw closer. Her new home was isolated; the only approach was by boat. A small hut served as the only habitable shelter—or so she’d been informed. Arrangements for food and clean water were to be delivered monthly, but she would have contact with no others. Ever. Little did they know she would be surrounded by the only thing a siren needed—the sea.

She inhaled the sweet, salty aroma. Trapped on land for too long, she was finally returning to the sea. The wind whistled as the sails brought her closer to her prison—her home. Waves beat a welcoming rhythm against the rocks. She smiled, humming the familiar seductive tune as the ship docked. She was home.

“Commander,” Assana called over the song of the waves against the rocks. “I will need a tour of my new home.”

Mr. Carter had been kind. He would survive to bear witness. The captain? He would disappear.