3rd day, but my choice of things to do...

As it was pretty much the end of inductions and introductions after Monday & Tuesday, Wednesday was comprised of three workshops to enhance our 'English' skills - Flash Fiction, Poetry, and Writers' Board (Q-&-A with 3 visiting writers). I chose Flash Fiction, as I was aware that Poetry was one of our first semester modules.

I learned that 'Flash Fiction' is actually another name for 'short short story', basically a tale no longer than or just over one side of A4 paper. We were given examples from past years, and were given a series of artistically-captured photographs from a photography book to help inspire us with imaginative ideas that we could gather by looking at the photographs. I have provided you with my Flash Fiction story below, "The Misty Sight" (sorry about the formatting issues). I hope you like it, whoever is out there reading this:

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Close your eyes. Close them! Don’t peep! Read once, close eyes. Read again, close eyes.

2007

A red mist. Splattered on your window, burning your eyes, lava-orange, almost white centre, black where it cannot reach. A destructive range of colours.

Your eyes are half open, half closed; half not bothered, half intrigued. The black gives way to orange, orange to yellow. The white walls that surround you remind you of your fall twenty years after now. How cold it must’ve been for your daughter. Travelling, like so many others, waiting in queues, wondering if she’ll be there in time for…

…She sleeps off her grief, anger, frustration, hurt

feelings. Plane from Hawaii,

to New York,

to London.

When she’d arrived at her hotel in Hawaii, beautiful sun-lit room.

When leaving, room felt empty. Distinguished. Green neon lights shining in, not a nice feeling. Cold, sick, Devil Doesn’t Care.

Beach was tranquil.

Peaceful.

Empty.

Bright.

Hot, arid, sky-blues, sea-blue see-through, yellowy-white sands.

Left behind for other treading feet.

How could you, you think. But it’s too late now. Too late to change the Future, your Past, their Childhood.

Their Moon, Your Sun. The dusts, the rubble: your resting place.

An ending.

A beginning.

Dark city. Plane lands… Too late… The sun has shone its last for you.

You’re stupid, stupid woman!!

The blood pump halted,

Your...

…heart

…rests…

Your last breath stops…

You’re Stupid. Stupid Woman!