Here's a flash fiction story I wrote for a contest a few months ago. Or maybe it was a month ago. I can't remember. I didn't win. The prompt was: Write a story, no more than 600 words, in the form of voicemail message. I like it but only because it makes me laugh. And if you can't make yourself laugh, then you are probably really boring to talk to and you should work on that.
Hey, Jack! Just calling to check in. I know you have probably been super busy this week, but I wanted to call and let you know again how much fun I had with you the other night. Oh and also, I was just in that consignment shop we passed by and I was killing time, sifting through their stuff and I found Frank O’Hara at the bottom of this endless bin of random crap all the way at the back of the store! I mean really, what are the chances? It seems like fate to find him there when we were JUST talking about him. I have to say that this particular Frank has seen better days. He’s earmarked all over, his binding is broken, he smells a bit old and forgotten. I skimmed the table of contents to find that one I told you about last week, the one I said reminded me of you. Remember? “My eyes are vague blue like the sky..” Well it was not only in there but that page was earmarked!I wish I could know who had him before. They were probably from last century, but we still searched for the same things. Anyway, I'm home tonight and enjoying a glass of white wine on a Tuesday and it feels, I don’t know, rebellious. In a tiny way, maybe but still... You know it’s kind of silly but I sort of feel the same way when I park outside the lines in an empty parking lot or when I hit the snooze button in the morning. I remember you saying how much you liked rebellious girls with tattoos so maybe it’s actually destiny that we met, ha ha! I mean I don’t have any tattoos yet but someday. You with your vague blue eyes and me with my tiny rebellions. What a couple! I mean, not a couple couple just, you know what I mean, right? Anyway, I’m starting to ramble which is something I do when I’m nervous. You probably noticed that the other night, right? I have to admit I was a little nervous.You know, even though I haven’t heard from you in a few days, I still feel this really strong connection to you. Maybe it was that gorgeous vintage watch you kept looking at or that skinny tie you kept fiddling with but I just keep remembering how talking to you made me feel nostalgic for a place I’ve never been to before, if that makes any sense. Longing for something that never happened to me, some unreachable memory that eludes me but comforts me at the same time. Or something. So I keep describing you to my friends as “vintage.” Anyway, I’d love to give you the Frank O’Hara, especially since I remember you saying you don’t really “get” poetry. Maybe when we meet up again? So call me back whenever you can! Ok, bye. Oh, um, this is Jess, by the way.