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 …

“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 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 …