Micro: Feathers after a tornado

My parents crowbar the chicken feeder in the storm’s residual murmurs. We’ve trodden quietly among the acreage’s mangled bones: the coop’s a wreck, the concrete feeder bottom-up. Beaks of pink dust peck the silence where a cacophony of chickens should be.

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I entered a flash fiction competition on Twitter

Here are all the ways it went badly.

The prompt “horizon” arrived in my email. The task was to write a story of up to thirty words inspired by and using the prompt, tweet your entry, tag Writers Victoria (@Writers_Vic), and hashtag WVFlashFic22. I’m a nervous overthinking Nivita unsuited to the fast, savvy highway that is Twitter—and usually too busy feeding the chickens—so I don’t tweet (as my bio says). But a good friend of mine was taking the challenge daily, and her diligence put me to shame. I felt I should enter at least once.

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