I have started playing in another contest of Fiction 59 stories. There will be ten stories to write, all 59 words or less, all having to do with one profession or another. There are twenty contestants, and the top six scores (based on the Olympic medal system) after ten weeks go to a playoff.
The first week’s prompt was to write about a gravedigger. Judges comments below.
Hazel’s arthritic hands could barely affix the grave marker.
“You were the most precious kitty,” she wept. “I’ll never forget you.” She stepped back to admire her work.
Whiskers brushed her leg. For the last time, purring broke her silence.
“There, there Sadie.” Hazel scratched her behind the ears. “I’ve saved room for you, too.”
K: I assume Hazel’s burying them because she’s about to die? The darkness works best if I make that assumption, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Or she might just be crazy, given the insane number of Sadies, which is also fun. GOLD
MD: This made me laugh mostly because I was expecting another soon-to-be-offing-herself widow story and, instead, Hazel’s burying her cat. There is so much hiding between the lines in this story. It’s a good use of 59 words, even if the concept is kinda silly. She’s buried thousands of cats, all named Sadie, and apparently this one only lasted a year. She’s saving room for the other Sadie, who is, for some reason, WITH her at the gravesite. She had a gravestone especially made for her bazillionth dead Sadie. It’s all so absurd. BRONZE
W: Full confession for the rest of the competition: in my mind, six feet under is the best place for almost all cats. Bonus points for killling a cat, hinting at the deaths of 98 other cats, and implying the future death of a cat, but it’s just not quite enough for me.