Some friends of mine know that I am a writer and told me about this 48 hour "flash fiction" writing contest that the University of Iowa holds every year. They said that they all participate and encouraged me to do so as well. I wasn't sure that I would. I'm not terrible at writing short stories, but I struggle with them. I always want to explore more and go further into the world or plot I've created and end up writing the beginnings of a novel instead (which ends up abandoned deep in my files more often than not). But, this competition was only 48 hours long, so I wouldn't have very long to write and rewrite and try to perfect every little detail, it had to be 1,000 words or less, so there really wasn't room for details anyway, and the contest would provide two prompts, so I didn't have to pull something out of thin air. When the 48 hour challenge rolled around, I gave it a shot. The contest gave these two prompts: Prompt A: A thriller, the primary character is a fortune cookie writer, and it must include dish soap somewhere in the story. Prompt B: A fantasy, the primary character is an elevator inspector, and it must include a balloon somewhere in the story. I actually ended up writing two stories, both for Prompt B, because I hated the first one after I wrote it and wanted to do better just to spite myself. I get some of my best writing done out of spite for others and myself and I liked the second story better so that's what I submitted. I knew they would be announcing the winners today, and though I had high hopes, I had low expectations. I told my beloved cat, Elinor, before I went to work today that she shouldn't get too excited because this was my first year entering and there are many wonderful writers out there. She ignored me and then meowed at me to turn on the faucet for her so that she could drink some tap water. When I was at work, I quickly got caught up in the busyness of the library and forgot about the writing contest, planning on checking the results when I got home. While I was helping someone print endless copies of personal documents, the phone rang. My coworker told me it was my mom and offered to swap places with me so I could talk to her. Lo and behold, my mom was calling to congratulate me on being named one of five honorable mentions in the writing contest! While I was excited, I was also needed to help with the copier, so I was not as appreciative to my mom as I should have been for her call and hang up rather quickly (sorry, Mom!). The happy thought of having my work looked at and mentioned honorably has warmed me up all day. It will make me even happier to share the story here with anyone who might see it. If you would like to read the fantastic winning entries and the other honorable mentions, check out the University of Iowa Write Now website by clicking the button below. Then keep on scrolling here to read both the story that I got honorable mention for and the first story I wrote for this contest (which I don't hate so much anymore). Honorable mention story: Adaptable Nature Pixies were never meant to live in cities. They weren’t meant to dodge traffic, wheeze through smog, or build their homes out of litter. But, neither were pigeons. Along with their fascination with French fries, pixies and pigeons shared an adaptable nature. Despite the cement towers dominating every block of the city, pixies had still managed to carve out a corner of nature for themselves. They’d found a park on a prime slice of real estate between two highrise behemoths. Humans never noticed their petite homes made of discarded boxes or saw the smoke rising from their drinking straw chimneys. Never had a human foot trampled the pebble paths lined with bottle caps, nor knocked down the picket fences made of cigarette butts. It was a quiet, happy community. Allani, a glittering purple pixie, loved her juice carton home and her plastic bag hammock. She would lay back in the evenings and watch the light from the streetlamp catch on the chandelier she’d crafted from lost earrings. She and her neighbors had just cleared a patch to start a garden and a new coffee shop had just opened near the park--promising a world of tasty cast offs. All would be well. With a contented smile, Allani stretched eagerly one morning. It was still dark, but her chore for the day needed to be done early. She closed her front door and flapped her dragonfly wings. Buzzing into the air, she took off down the street and hummed to herself, observing the neighborhood. She waved at a rat she knew as he scurried away, dragging a soft pretzel behind him, and blew a kiss to the raccoon in the dumpster. She cried out in pure delight when she spotted a purple balloon stuck in the scraggly tree by the street. It was the same color as her hair and she loved it immediately. For ten minutes she fought with the string and the branch holding it, before freeing her prize. The few, sleepy humans who noticed the balloon watched it only for a moment. In their city there were more exciting things to pay attention to than a lone, bobbing balloon. Allani towed the purple orb to the shiny building not far from her park and used it to trigger the sensor for the sliding glass doors. Once inside, she breathed in the scent of the perfumed lobby. She admired her reflection in the floor and then made her way to the elevators. Both were out of order, but Allani was in a good mood. She could have found the stairwell and flown up, she supposed. However, she knew that elevators were important in emergency situations for paramedics and police. So, Allani decided to investigate and find the cause of the problem. She’d lived in an elevator shaft for a short time before moving to her current home and she considered herself an expert. At least among pixies. She left her balloon waiting in the lobby and pressed the button on the elevator. Nothing happened, so she pried the cover off the button panel and examined the wires. Humming again, she used her teeth to cut through a few wires and rework them to open the heavy metal doors. With a nod to herself, she entered the elevator and began poking around. Her inspection seemed to be a dead end. Nothing she could find would stop the lift from lifting, so she tried pushing a button on the panel. It lit up, but there was no movement. Crossing her arms and tapping her chin, Allani tried to think. Eventually, she snapped her fingers and flew through the crevice that led to the shaft. She fluttered up to the suspension cables and looked around. Just as she’d suspected, a fuzzy green creature sat, gnawing on the cables, a fistful of important looking wires in his hand. A gremlin. Allani wasn’t big enough to fight the machine destroying creature, but she was smart enough to get rid of him. It helped that gremlins were not so bright themselves. All she had to do was tell him that there was a helicopter landing on the roof and he scampered up the cables and away with a hoot of excitement. There was nothing gremlins liked more than air vehicles. After that, it was short work to put the elevator back in working order. Before she rode to the top floor, she went back for her balloon and brought it with her. She’d learned the key code for the penthouse days before by silently watching and she entered it to gain access to the luxurious apartment. Once inside, she marveled at the array of trinkets. When she finally found her way to the bedroom, she picked up a sparkly diamond earring. It would be perfect decor. She glanced at the two sleeping figures in the bed and then at her balloon. She knew she couldn’t keep the big purple thing, but she decided it could still be useful. She gently poked a hole near the balloon knot with her new earring. The helium whooshed out and she giggled in a higher pitch at the flatulent sound. Once it was deflated, she took the purple latex and flew toward the king sized bed. She landed on the man’s sharp cheekbone and watched him sleep peacefully for a moment. Then she pried open his mouth and shoved the balloon deep into his esophagus. He choked and spluttered. The woman next to him tiredly slapped at his arm, muttering for him to be quiet. Her wish came true a moment later and Allani sat on the man’s neck to check his pulse. Satisfied with her handiwork, she wrestled his phone over to his face to unlock it. With a gleeful grin, she typed a text message: I changed my mind. Don’t build on the park. Leave it alone. After hitting send, she took the earring and returned home. Story I started out hating, but don't mind so much now: Pat's Last Inspection Dust coated the panel and the buttons no longer lit up. The floor grabbed at shoes with years of sticky grime. Somehow, the handrail around the steel box was still shiny, but who really ever used the handrail inside an elevator anyway? Pat reached out to press the button for the top floor. One ride and then her inspection would be complete. After that she could go home to her recliner and her leftovers. Her joints rejoiced at the thought of sitting. With her boss and her knees reminding her every day that she was getting too old for her job, she wondered for the millionth time if she ought to retire soon. Just as the elevator doors started to close, someone stepped inside. She blinked and looked over her clipboard into the golden eyes of a young man. Her niece was into comic conventions and had a pair of contacts that did the same thing, but the shimmery color still unnerved Pat. “Did you not see the sign?” She asked. His hair was down to his shoulders in an unkept, but stylish shape. When he looked at her and smiled, she noticed stars painted on his cheeks like freckles. “Sign?” She wondered if the British accent was part of his character. “The ‘closed for inspection’ sign printed on neon paper?” “Are you a lift inspector?” He turned fully to look at her and she saw that his jacket was covered in patches of stars, hearts, and balloons. “Excellent career choice. Do you enjoy it?” She pushed the button for the next floor and when the doors opened she pointed, “Out. I haven’t finished my inspection yet.” “I can’t take the stairs,” he sighed regrettably and gestured to his cane. Had he been carrying that the whole time? Pat stared at the intricately carved walking stick. With her line of work, she liked to think that she was fairly observant, but she felt like the cane had been pulled from thin air. “Oh,” she shook her head, “Fine. I’m almost done anyway. You’re headed to the top floor?” “Hopefully.” “The elevator’s not in that bad of shape,” she laughed, “There’s no ‘hopefully’ about it. We’ll get there.” “Well, with elevators like this, you never can be sure,” he rapped his cane on the door, “Can’t see a thing through all this metal and there are no windows.” “Claustrophobic?” “I mean…” he waved his hand flippantly, “Well, isn’t it exciting? We step in a box in one place, push a button, and step out in entirely another.” Pat eyed him curiously, but didn’t comment. It was too late in the day to entertain whatever philosophical or phantasmical thought he was thinking. “How can we be sure of where we’ll be let out at the end of the ride?” “That helps,” she pointed at the box, displaying the floor number. He burst into laughter and didn’t stop until they reached their floor. However, when the doors opened, rather than the corridor of a low income apartment building, Pat saw a sidewalk lined with carousels, tilt-a-whirls, and roller coaster queues. Emitting an unintelligible flabbergasted sound, Pat looked around and then looked at the man next to her. He frowned and tapped his cane on the ground. “Just as I suspected,” he nodded, “This lift isn’t up to code. Wouldn’t you agree?” “What the--” “Hold that thought,” he stepped out of the elevator and walked toward a man selling balloons. He grabbed the bunch of balloons from the man and sprinted back to the elevator, shoving the balloons into the space. He pressed the “door close” button rapidly, but they didn’t close until the balloon man had nearly reached them. “What are those for?” Pat asked over the squeaking of the latex. “The lift isn’t up to code. We’d better take it in for repairs.” “I don’t understand,” she clutched at the handrail behind her and tried to process what was happening. Her best guess was that, along with a stairway, the Almighty had recently added an elevator, but the man didn’t seem like an angel. And her doctor said her heart meds were working fine. “I’m glad you let me on. Clearly this was a job for two inspectors,” he tipped his top hat--had he been wearing it before? “Two?” “We’re on the same career path, believe it or not. You deal with bothersome lifts, I deal with more delinquent ones.” “Am I dead?” “Doubt it, but you wouldn’t be the first ghost I’ve met,” he began poking balloons with his walking stick. “Anyway, let's get this box to the shop, shall we?” The balloons swelled and glowed. The floor number went higher than there were levels in the building. Pat felt her stomach flutter. When they finally stopped the doors opened to a whimsical workshop perched on a cloud. Pat gripped the rail tighter and refused to get out. The balloons floated out and the man approached the workshop, waving a clipboard. Pat’s clipboard. A woman wearing a hefty toolbelt took the clipboard and nodded before looking behind the man and waving. Pat waved shakily back. “We’ll get it fixed and have you back to your inspection in a jiff,” the woman called, “Just hold tight!” She approached with her tool belt and went straight to work on the button panel. What work she did Pat had no idea, but in twenty minutes she slapped the panel and nodded. “All set, thanks for your cooperation!” The man swapped places with the mechanic and brought the balloons with him. He hit the ground floor button on the panel and then began popping balloons with his cane. They dropped and Pat screamed the whole way. When the doors next opened, they were in the lobby of the building. The man shook her hand, his hat and cane missing, and left. When he was gone, Pat called her boss. “I want to retire. Today.” (I hope you enjoyed those stories and the silly covers I made for them on Canva! Thanks for reading!)
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