Winning stories, podium places and feedback: Part two: Angry Hourglass

In a continuation of collating winning stories, podium placing and feedback, I've trawled through some of the old flash fiction competitions. This post is dedicated to the world of the Angry Hourglass, run by LadyHazmat/ Dr Rebecca, pathologist, writer and good friend to flash fiction. Angry Hourglass allowed longer word counts than many other flash …


More judging – Angry Hourglass – Round 56: Winners

More judging. This time I was lucky enough to be asked to judge at The Angry Hourglass…

The Angry Hourglass

Hey all. Welcome back. I’d like to say a quick but heartfelt thanks to Mark A. King for acting as judge this round, and, as always, a great big thanks to you, the writers, for making Flash Frenzy a part of your weekly writing journey. You’ll find Mark’s comments below:

I just wanted to say a big thank you to you all. The prompt was a good choice and generated a wide range of stories. Each had elements I really enjoyed:

In mrmacrum’sBed Bugger”, we had a brooding tale of darkness and justice. The use of dialogue worked well in this piece as a tool to drive the story and bring life to the characters. I have to confess I’d never heard the term Bed Bugger before, I so looked it up – should I ever need moving services in the US, I’ll now be thinking twice before calling one of them…

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“The White Tail of the Metal Dragon” – Flash Frenzy Round 52 | The Angry Hourglass

The White Tail of the Metal Dragon The little boy plays in the field outside the city. He tenderly touches his father’s hand, looking for respite from the gathering of the crops. It has been so long since he rested. “These are times of war, son. You know we have to gather the crops to …

“Silhouette Sunday” – Flash Frenzy Round 51 | The Angry Hourglass

Silhouette Sunday Religion never really died – it just moved on. Technology. Lust. Money. Fame. The religions of the first-world fed on the detritus of absconded gods. And so it came it be; Silhouette Sunday, once born of ancient Easter – a time of birth from death. In the sterile factories filled with embryonic stem-cells, …

“The Soul Catcher” – The Angry Hourglass #50 – Win

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I was honoured and privileged to be chosen as winner at The Angry Hourglass for my story “The Soul Catcher”. Many thanks to judge Voima Oy.

The Angry Hourglass

The Soul Catcher

by Mark A. King

A Photograph Captures the Soul – Traditional Indigenous belief

I remember the first photograph. Yes, yes, how could I not?

My emaciated body ravaged over the centuries, gorged on that first image. I’d fed on the scraps of paintings, the reflections in mirrors and water. But this barely sustained me. I was a but a shell, a vessel, a husk.

They say John the Baptist consumed nothing but locusts and honey in the arid deserts and I have fed on worse.

The very first picture, low definition, grainy and monotone – was like the promise of manna.

Yet I was still hungry. Always hungry.

Later, through the lens of glorious Technicolor, I devoured the entire spectrum of a soul. The dry chalk of powder-puff blue, the bitterness of yellow, the tang of crimson and the spice of teal.

Oh, the souls…

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“The Time Traveller” – Flash Frenzy Round 49 | The Angry Hourglass

The Time Traveller Perhaps this is the thousandth time I have witnessed this. Yet, this is the final time. I am a time traveller without a DeLorean. This pitiful attempt to rewrite the past has eaten away at me like a parasite. I know it has destroyed me more than the growths which now suffocate …

“The Cherub Hitman of Cambridge” – Flash Frenzy Round 40 | The Angry Hourglass

The Cherub Hitman of Cambridge Things got worse after he’d messed up the millennium gig. It was supposed to be… something much bigger. He’d been banished to Earth, and of all places, Cambridge. People tend to think of cherubs as porky and cute. Cedric was a carrying a bit of timber, sure, but to call …

“A Prayer on All Hallows Eve” – Flash Frenzy Round 39 | The Angry Hourglass

A Prayer on All Hallows Eve I am but a man of weakness, frailty and betrayal. I kneel before Him, my cassock rumpled up as a sea of fabric against the shore of my weekend knees. I adjust my dog-collar with my rosary beads hanging off my clasped hands, like a modern-day rapper’s bling. I’ve …