By Varteny Koulian
That night, when bombs stopped painting the sky with fire, when darkness thickened again around the lightless town, the men opened their doors and walked toward a clearing where a single car idled on precious gas. A television set perched on its hood drew life from the battery.
One by one they gathered around the small screen. Arms around shoulders they huddled tight and with hungry eyes they watched unwarring countries at play. For every goal or miss, the men shifted and moved. They clenched fists, stomped feet, but swallowed their cheers so silence would linger as long as it could.
Excellent. Really enjoyed this. To me, every really good flash here seems longer/bigger than 101 words, as a story spooks out of its frame.
Spools not spooks! Darned autocorrects.
Another fine entry. You’re on a roll. Congrats.
Amazing! So much said in 101 words.
Wow!
Nicely done!
Wow. We are are transported to a tortured landscape where the men (only the men) can escape, for precious moments, the crushing reality of war in the shared joy and camaraderie of a game. It is perfect and so moving.
Brilliant!
Wonderful!
Vartney, each one is better than the last. Keep it up.
I really loved this!
Stark truth , perfect clarity , better with such brevity. Brilliant.
Beautifully written! The words just paint the pictures in my mind.