Pick a prompt and choose a piece of writing advice from a famous author. After you set your fifteen-minute timer, write flash fiction using the writing advice.
Prompt 2 “A writer has no room to judge, only to understand.” Hemingway
It was unforgivable. Completely wrong and unforgivable.
But it had felt like the only choice that wouldn’t leave him feeling like a fraud for the rest of his life. However long or short it might be at this rate.
He wasn’t even going to pretend it was okay and wouldn’t bother to beg forgiveness. He just had to tell them the truth. Let them decide what to do for themselves. No one said he couldn’t offer a warning to those who might be affected by his choice. He shook his head, grabbed the hair at either side while cupping his ears. As if to block out the noise while he squeezed his eyes closed. Embracing the dark behind them for only a moment before the space was flooded with clips from the storyline leading him to this point. It was unreal… If he made it through the current climax and was added to the main character list some how. He might just have to writing it into the most fabulous script, or piece of fiction that would be talked about for generations. The thought was on its way to brightening his outlook when a new line tossed it’s hat in.
To bad they won’t see it that way. You sold them out Archie…
No one would see it from his point of view. He’d been kicked while he was down one too many times to get up and try to go in the same direction. He’d put down his cloak of self-service, in the most uncharacteristic moment of his life. He let go of the hold he had on the tufts of hair at his temples. The loosened skin throbbed and relaxed all at once. The only people who’d understood were those bearing a similar secret. None the less the level of grief and guilt over something they had chosen to do.
If a train was barreling down the track toward a group of people you knew and you had the option to switch the channel so it would save the group, but that choice would cause a stranger to be crushed. What would you choose?
He scoffed at the question rising from a time he’d been obsessed with philosophy and the hooka house. They had the best supreme pizza of all time.
He’d never thought life would present him with a real live version of the train tracks conundrum. Sorting the options hadn’t been easy. What would anyone do? Keeping the group of family or friends, in a sense, would be selfish. To discount someone he didn’t know for the sake of putting the needs of those he knew more intimately above somehow, the stranger and those who care for them. Archey scratched his head. Lost in the thoughts surrounding their nucleus. What he’d done.
He kicked a rock and pretended it was anyone else’s opinion over how he’d leaned in the end. He watched the projectile launch over the concrete
Sometimes there isn’t a good choice. Sometimes it’s the better of two less appealing options.
Archibold stuffed his hands deeper in his pockets. So in a way, his choice to save the stranger and allow others to choose their fate had been the best. Life was full of variables for everyone.
He’d felt relief after leaving the decision behind him, “what’s done is done.” He murmured under his breath.
How was it someone felt the need to put such a choice in front of him?
He sighed and resigned himself to the next stage while pulling his lively cellphone from the front pocket of his slacks. He had some phone calls to make. He hesitated over the first name. I had to do it. It was the only choice. Now it was any man’s game.
He placed the device against his head. The interface lit up his silhouette in cold blue. The worry lines relaxed by the second ring. and then…
“Hey, Malcolm. So, I have to tell you something and you can’t be mad at me.”
The End.
Side Note:
This was a really fun exercise. The entire time I sat at the coffee shop today, editing a video/audio clip I’m tackling at the moment, I was imagining how to portray a character without bias. I tried to think if it was something I did regularly, for myself and others. And then to what degree if yes or no, or sometimes both. How could I improve my ability to be merciful in my analysis? Beginning with myself and then naturally while interacting with whatever is around me. The feedback I got was personal and transparent, like a little cheat code between myself and the universe.
The moment I cozied up to the fireplace to tackle this challenge I let myself breathe in the warmth. Through my nose, over my skin, and invited myself to see whatever character came to mind myself, my inner child. A thought baby I love and cherish and wish the best outcomes for regardless of what they’ve gotten themselves into. I only had fifteen minutes so I went as far as I could but the whole thing played so naturally to my current chemistry. I think I’m starting to get the hang of this. Feels good.