In Fall 2020, I took Advanced Nonfiction Writing at UNT. The professor chose flash essays for our writing that semester.
A "flash essay" is a very short, concise essay that focuses on a single, impactful moment or idea. It often uses vivid imagery and detail to convey a powerful message; it's essentially a micro-essay that captures a fleeting experience with impactful writing. Our professor defined them as less than 1000 words, but we would write primarily in the 150-400 word range. As you can imagine, I was concerned. I was used to 3000-5000 word pieces. I remember saying, "How the Hell can I tell a story in 200 words when it takes me 2000 to warm up?" Well, it started with experimentals. I learned using various techniques, which I'll define at the end of each essay.
269 Words
Imitation of Triptych, Fours, in media res
“Creamsicle Ledge”
The light brown Earth falls from our faces as we scramble to bury the dead—our G.I. Joes. They are shredded from leftover fireworks and pummeled from the local creek's adventures. They are receiving honorary burials next to The Wall, an unexplained extension off my childhood home. Built of orange and white brick, it forms a monolith overlooking the Cemetery of Toys. We are many things – toy murderers, distinguished guests of honor, grieving family, and a grateful neighborhood on this June morning.
In the afternoon, the wall is transformed into The Cave, providing our shelter. We stand sheltered inside the cavern under the roof's eve, protected from Grumpy, Alice, and all the Sleestaks that would do us harm. In our very own "Land of the Lost," we carve toothpicks from the pecan tree that shields us from the afternoon sun. Nearby is the marble bag that contains the crystals necessary to guide us home. We are many things – potential prey, adventurers lost, curious paleontologists, and the Marshalls on this June afternoon.
The sound of the cicadas ring across the neighborhood, piercing the black. "Locusts," we call them, but we do things differently in Texas. We look up from the Creamsicle Ledge and begin our climb. Arms and legs scale onto the roof, where we ascend to the peak. The telescope is situated, aiming its gaze towards Jupiter as it sits among the twinkling lights in the sky above. Below, a flashlight on the driveway mimics among the flickering lights as the lightning bugs cruise. We are many things – rule breakers, mountain climbers, astronomers, and entomologists on this June night.
Triptych: a piece that is made up of three related or contrasting parts or themes.
Fours : the number four or the four writing styles: expository, narrative, persuasive, and descriptive.
in media res : a story that begins partway through its plot, with the missing events filled in later through dialogue, flashbacks, or other techniques.
393 Words
Imitation of: Epigraph, Three as Scaffolding, Em Dash, Polysyndeton
"Residents of a Heart"
“Why are old lovers able to become friends? Two reasons. They never truly loved each other, or they love each other still.”― Whitney Otto, How to Make an American Quilt
If there is ever a group of men that truly understand women, it is the Gen-X man. More than likely, he was raised by his mother or grandmother or aunt or sister. He was without a father for much of his life and he likely is angry at his Y-chromosome contributor.
When I think back over my years, I can say I felt love more than enough for this lifetime and the next. I had the pleasure of dating often in most of the phases of my life. It is safe to say that being attracted to a woman was never an issue for me. Many have a place in my heart; those touches left their marks that I can still feel today.
I admit that some of the love I profess to feel was nothing more than supercharged lust.
Her name was Kristin and she was the one I first truly loved, where my heartbeat wildly. She was everything I wanted in a woman – shirt, brunette, smart. She was strong willed, being an only child. Foolishly, I let her get away.
Her name was Brenda. I too loved her, but I hated her nearly as much. She too was what I felt I needed – broken, damaged, fatherless. But she took me to the brink of insanity and caused me to act in ways that were unbecoming. I left that mess but found out a few years later when she died unexpectedly that there was a place in my heart for her after all.
I wish I have been more opened to real love.
Her name was Ginger, and she was everything I wanted new – tall, blonde, a little bit crazy. We married in-between deployments; we divorced when I was on another deployment. She gave up on me when I needed her most. I have every reason in this world to wish her ill, but she resides as part of my soul. I cannot condemn her.
I admit I did not want to love again.
But I did and that woman, my wife of over 21 years owns most of my heart now. But pieces are still occupied and that is alright.
Epigraph: a short quote, line, or paragraph that appears at the beginning of a piece of writing to set up themes or place the story in context.
Three as Scaffolding: the process of breaking down a larger writing into smaller concepts.
Em Dash: to set off extra information, such as examples, explanatory or descriptive phrases, or supplemental facts.
Polysyndeton: uses repeated conjunctions to connect words, phrases, or clauses in a sentence.
400 Words
Imitation of Triptych, POV, Unspoken
“The Ancillary Chronicles: Part I”
New Orleans
He sat cramped in Acme Oyster House before a plate of oysters like he had never seen before. "Try them," he was told, "the best in the world," he was notified, "they'll change your life," he was confessed to. Charbroiled, they sat on the checkerboarded tabletop. Savory smoke rose, enticing him like a Siren of Aroma, forming a faint smile. He caressed the shell gently, stimulating his mouth to fill with anticipation's drool. He tasted, then sighed. He indeed changed his life.
Sonoma
He sat spread out at the table for three, immersed in the contents of the menu. "The finest American wine," he tasted "the glorious California weather," he absorbed, "the rugged beauty of geology and geography," he experienced. It was a quaint place, full of the comings and goings of people who spoke in the language of fermented grapes and expensive tastes.
The Prom goers entered and were seated near the back. "Oh yes, it's that time," he reminisced. He was well removed from such importance in the life of American youth. "Such a vibrant moment in life," he mused. He became mesmerized in the swirling space of Cabernet.
Memphis
He stood next to a pillar within the airport, spaced far away from the crowd in MEM.
"All those fine people arriving happily home," he rationalized, "and those people outside waiting for them," he deduced, "and those saying their sad goodbyes," he contemplated.
Airports were now his life, and this was another day ticking away with malaise.
Only that it was not. He stood up straight as he watched the soldier departing from the soldier's family. He knew what this meant; the soldier and the soldier's family may be doing this for the last time. He watched as mother, sons, daughters, and other family hugged the soldier, the man who held the keys to so many hearts. They all said goodbye, except one. The oldest son hid behind the pillar next to him, not having the strength to see the soldier leave.
"Go say goodbye. Your father will need this one day," he said to the young man. So, the young man did. After there were tears throughout MEM's concourse as the family hugged him and thanked him for guiding the soldier's son. Afterward, he looked up and caught the soldier's eyes, who nodded thanks and turned away. He stood alone again as he now cried.
Triptych: a piece that is made up of three related or contrasting parts or themes.
POV: refers to who is telling or narrating the story.
Unspoken: something is understood or felt without being spoken.
298 Words
Imitation of Persona, Magic Three, Bracketing, Echoes
“The Waiting Line”
A single bead of water, warm in the summer air, slowing streams down the window, gray in the overcast sky. It reflects in the puddle accumulating under its path, a descent into bitterness. Yet, it leads a clean path behind it, shimmering in its joy of a clear path.
I am standing in the waiting line, waiting for my turn to confess my morning sins to the barista as she prepares elixirs of absolution. She returns to the counter. White shirt, black apron trimmed in yellow, hair pulled up into a papal mitre—time to confess my sins.
“What may I get you today,” she asks like the calm of the seas quietened.
“A dark roast, please, the darkest you have,” I answer.
“Room for cream and sugar?”
“No, just black.”
Her eyes lift to mine, locked in. Pressing, she asks, “just black?”
“Yes, just black. Black and bitter like my soul.”
A chuckle and a nod. “Sounds like your soul needs some healing,” she says as she pours the piping hot elixir into a mug and hands it to me. “Go forth and drink thee Salvation.”
I sit alone at the table next to the window, hands cupping the mug for its warmth. My dear friend is gone and taken too soon, lost from this world. It was sudden, unexpected. It leaves me with a bitterness that festers in the dark places of my heart. I cannot let it take over, though. The demon within can never be unleashed.
A single, warm tear begins slowly descending my face through the gray forest of my beard. In the reflection of the mug, I see its trail, leaving a shimmer of a joyful memory in its wake.
I look at my watch; 30 minutes until the following waiting line.
Persona: the person who is understood to be speaking (or thinking or writing) a particular work.
Magic Three: A series of three parallel words, phrases, or clauses is known as a tricolon in literary parlance.
Bracketing: the use of brackets, which are punctuation marks, to clarify or explain a part of a sentence.
Echoes: a repeat of a word or sound that jars the reader.
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