By Will Simpson
She teetered on the ledge, three stories up. Her tattered nightgown flapped like moths making for the moon. We all gasped when she dangled her dirty, bare sole. I felt a responsibility. Guilty, almost. And utterly powerless. I positioned myself beneath her, as if to catch her, but a policeman pushed me back.
When the woman behind me shrieked, I put my head down and looked at the concrete pavement. No more could be done, so I started walking. Kept on walking. Looking back over my shoulder, I hoped the mess she made would cover the one I made of her.
Gripping story!
Wow I was there with you excellent writing
A lot of detail, makes it more real.
Not being able to look – an excellent device in flash.
Great last line.
The last seven words snapped this all into place. Kudos!
Wow…an excellent, powerful story.
The story impresses even before an effective denouement. This is a fabulous economy of words: great story arc and wonderful imagery as well as pleasing meter and alliteration. The second sentence in particular is poetic. It’s rare to see the constraints of flash fiction managed so adroitly.
Great story. Well done, Will.
Impressive tale in 101 words
Paints a vivid picture