'A Disparate Situation' - Second Placed Flash Fiction
'A story fizzing with energy and atmosphere...'
Hi there.
My final competition entry for 2025 was a ~300 word flash fiction story called ‘A Disparate Situation’. It was inspired by the following prompt, as part of Hampshire Writers’ celebrations for Jane Austen’s 250th birthday:
‘Jane Austen wrote her ground-breaking and innovative novels from within an intergenerational all-female household made up of her mother, sister and sister-in-law. Write a short story set within another all-female household, but without using any of Austen’s characters or a Regency setting.’
Given this was far outside my usual creative writing zone, I was both surprised and delighted to be awarded second place by judge Lizzie Dunford (LizzieDWrites), who is Director of Jane Austen’s House, now a museum in Chawton, Hampshire, UK. Austen’s final home was where she revised and wrote all six of her major novels, creating an extraordinary literary legacy with ongoing global impact.
“A story fizzing with energy and atmosphere. There is a keen edge to this, as well as all the essentials for a short story – before, now and after”, judged Lizzie Dunford.
Until next time…
‘A Disparate Situation’
The log cabin was too small for all the lives it held inside. Five saved souls, one rescuer. All female, half human. Only one had voiced their need for help. Only one could give it.
“I’m here now,” their rescuer had said, voice as soft as her smile. “You’re no longer alone.”
Bags and boxes filled the other bedroom, fragments of shattered lives and unwanted memories.
“What should I do with this?” asked the daughter.
“Just…put it down. Anywhere,” the mother said. “We’ll make space later.”
Their rescuer asked for nothing in return, though exhaustion clung to her like a second skin. She drew strength from a stubborn mind and the unconditional love of her two dogs. Her weakness was a heart that clutched onto too much as it tried to conquer the uncaring world outside. She hid the cost even from herself.
“You need to eat too,” murmured one of the saved, food now a comfort.
“I ate earlier,” lied her rescuer, eyes averted and hand trembling as she cleared their plates.
Mother and daughter exchanged frowns. “You said that yesterday.”
An ancient phone buzzed once, twice on the stained table.
“Is that him again?”
“I can’t let that ghost back through the cracks.”
“Just keep breathing. Keep yourself alive inside.”
More silence stretched taut between them. A dog jumped from the sofa to the floor, nails tapping on the wooden boards.
“Will you give me back?” asked the child.
“Not to someone who never deserved you.”
“Can he take me away?” The question pushed them back into the cold, deep snow.
“Only if you let him.”
She paused. “Is he outside?”
“Somewhere, yes. But he doesn’t decide your story now. You do.”
The darkness encroached on their thin shelter of fragile hope. The world might yet split them apart, but in that moment they held on.
You really must write more, JR. You're really rather good at it.