Probably The Best Flash Fiction In The World

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Because….. we have a WINNER!

Amid much anguish, hand-wringing, and a few stomach ulcers, the results are in.

The winner sprang straight out of the Literary Fiction Title Generator. There were more than several reasons for the entry published below being the winner, but fewer reasons separating it from the very close runners-up, making it a very tough decision indeed.

Nevertheless, the Estimable, Impartial and Utterly Respectable Guest Judge  had to finally settle on this winner because:

1. It’s bloody brilliant.
2. It is also very funny.
3. The flash fiction was supposed to be in the style of the title generator from which it took inspiration, and you don’t get more literary than James Joyce, now do you?
4. It was assigned 54,879 points for the last line alone.

So without further ado, congratulations and a €50 Amazon voucher are winging their way to Katie Purcell, for the rather marvellous:

The Dominant Glassworks in Donnybrook

by

Katie Purcell

Ah, but he was a bottle freak was our Charlie. Charlie Echo Foxtrot. Bravo! A right proper Charlie and a Uniform Victor Whiskey to you too. See-sawing on a see-saw. See. Saw. Saw. See. Saw. Drill. Sparks. Fly. The glow of molten glass and Sheila the Rod and the way she might look at you. ‘I like sausages for my tea in the morning’, says Charlie. Sausages. Four. My. Tee. Oh, how we laughed. The wisdom of it all. Dum, di, dum, di, dum, di, dumb. Dumb. Charlie was dumb. ‘I was not’, says he. ‘Sure you were, tiddykins’, says I, and I the gallow-glass of the moment. Glassworks. ‘Glass works’, says Charlie. ‘Sure, don’t I know, tiddykins’ says I again, always having a lot to say for herself. From the bottom of a glass no less. ‘Whatcha doing?’ says Charlie. A proper Charlie. ‘Channelling,’ says I, in full flow. ‘Channelling wha?’ says Charlie. ‘Glass,’ says I (the fine girl that she is—oh, how we leapt from thought to thought back in the day—a sight of pure Joyce to behold!) Anna Livia. Anna Livia. ‘You wha?’ says Charlie. A proper Charlie Echo Foxtrot. Echo. Echo. Foxtrot. Dancing in the dark: in the moonlight: in the street. Beginning the Beguine, the begin, the Bedouin. In the desert. In the dessert. Just desserts. Just desert and the Bedouin and I. Or was it the King? Frying eggs on stones. ‘What you dune?’ says Charlie. Pretend Charlie (not proper). Charlie pretended that night in the Glassworks: his ten green Donnybrook bottles standing on the walls. Bridge. Brook, babbling brook, silver stream of my youth pouring its crystal waters where they shouldn’t be at all, at all, at all. ‘Will you have some tea?’ says I. Aye, I, says myself, I don’t mind if I do.’ ‘Of course I don’t,’ says I, ‘sure I wouldn’t be asking otherwise, would I?’ No, I wouldn’t me thought. She thought it too. Great minds think I-like. Grate. Minds. Streams of consciousness. Who’s grating minds? says Charlie. ‘Oh, he’s a right proper Charlie’, says I, with a shake of my head. I liked that—shaking my head: it was her wont. ‘Wont, wont, won’t’, says Charlie. Anna Livia, Anna Livia. ‘Shut up about yer wan,’ says Charlie, ‘sure she was nothing better than an old soak’. Soak and the way she might look at you. You didn’t like that: it wasn’t her wont. ‘That was the day the brother came,’ she said. ‘Came where?’ says Charlie. ‘With the Third Policeman,’ says I. ‘Oh, there was a terrible flim-Flann o’ the Brine and Finnegan’s a-wake that day, I can tell you. ‘Don’t be telling You,’ says bottle-necked Charlie, ‘tell me’. ‘Ach, you’re Ulysses, Charlie, completely Ulysses,’ wailed mad-I, with full pretention, ‘for t’was on this bloomsy saint-ish day of literary travail that I lost the only portrait of the playboy artist of the western—’ ‘Well,’ says Charlie, if you must synge, synge an Irish song.’

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Well done Katie! Your €50 euro Amazon voucher will be e-mailed to you today. Feel free to spend it on trash – because your work here is DONE!

I mentioned how close the competition was in the end. Therefore, the closer-than-close runners up will also be published this week, because they deserve accolades, back pats, and a torrent of internet love. Please give generously.