I recently took part in a 3-day, water-themed flash fiction contest hosted by Cassandra Hamm. Each day, a new prompt was provided, and entrants had to write 100 words or less about the prompt. A winner was chosen for each day. To see the winning stories, click here. I had the honour of been chosen as winner for day 2, but I enjoyed each day’s prompt so much that I thought I’d share all my entries here.

Prompt 1: The Sharks Approached Her Nervously, Respectfully

Rán tore through the waters, net in hand. Her voice echoed through the depths as she cried, “Faster, my children!”

Dolphins, sharks, squids, and eels raced together, abandoning trivial pursuits to chase their queen to the surface. Their eyes sparkled as brilliant flashes shattered the gloom.

Rán broke the surface. Rain hammered the waves. Thunder roared. When lightning flashed, she saw it. Glistening scales stained with crimson wounds twinkled on the distant shoreline. She floated in place, frozen by terror.

The sharks approached her nervously, respectfully, saying, “Jörmungandr is slain. Ragnarok has come.”

She growled, “Let us drown the end.”

Prompt 2: A Hurricane Takes Human Form (winning entry)

He was the ocean’s wrath, born of the ancient abyss. Condemned to mortal body, a storm in a bottle, he walked the world of men. His suppressed rage consumed him, straining to burst forth and rain violence again, until he met her.

Her sunlit eyes snared his restless gaze. Her smile shone through his darkest clouds. Her voice was a whispering breeze, and her touch gentle, lapping waves. Dawn pacified Hurricane with compassion, and fiercest love was born.

Now hand-in-hand, they venture to reclaim their forms, ere mortality snuffs her soothing light and stills his thunderous heart.

Prompt 3: The Wrinkled Fingertips Are Just the Beginning of the Transformation. We Always Leave the Water Too Early.

I always leave the Ocean, never lingering beyond wrinkly fingertips, for if I stay longer, surely it will spit me out as I deserve.

No more. I’m sick of the pain, anxiety, self-doubt—sick of this nightmare called life.

I dive. Icy waves embrace my skin and pull me under.

“Take me!” I shout, sacrificing my last breath to fugacious bubbles.

I don’t die.

Warmth floods me. A soothing voice—the Ocean’s voice—whispers to my soul, “I love you, my child. Live! Breathe!”

Crackling energy floods my veins. Peace drowns anxiety. Joy washes away pain.

I, the Ocean’s beloved child, am reborn.

Leave a Reply