In the comments Sara asked for more short short stories like Papatya's. Since Papatya doesn't have any (unless she wants to start plucking them out of her novel), I thought I'd link to a couple by other writers I like. As I love short shorts with a passion all out of relation to their diminutive size, I think I'll make this a regular feature. The only difficulty will be in having to find and link to ones already online. It'll be hard not to pluck them out of the many collections of short shorts on my shelf. (If you want an introduction to the form, try Flash Fiction -- I go back to that one often. Or pick up the latest Sudden Fiction anthology, which contains pieces by a number of terrific writers I've met online including Pia Z. Ehrhardt, Roy Kesey, and Claudia Smith.)
It's funny, I was reading Francine Prose's Reading Like a Writer in bed last night and she seems to have a penchant for the (well-written) long, wordy sentence. I like entire stories that are shorter than her fancy favourite sentences.
Here's my friend Elizabeth Ellen's Talk. Some subjects are just so perfectly suited to the form.
And this one called Shots, by the aforementioned Claudia, is very topical for me. I've been putting off Luke's flu shot because I find the experience too traumatic.
Finally, here's one of my old ones, "Sleight of Hand," from issue five of Quick Fiction:
All her closest friends had babies. She sculpted tiny likenesses of the faces of these children out of pills -- aspirin, antacids, the leftover contraceptives she didn't need. She used a powerful magnifying glass, a fine needle, and a pair of tweezers to do it. It was well known that she'd started soon after she discovered she couldn't have any children of her own. Everyone felt sorry for her. What they didn't know was that she was perfectly happy. It was true she'd once wanted a child but now she much preferred to labour over this. Many of her best pieces were on display in important museums and collectors offered her increasingly large sums of money for her work. Her husband, her greatest admirer, had been able to leave his unpleasant job as an insurance adjuster years earlier than they'd anticipated. In the past he'd been distracted by his own interests, but now he liked to sit beside her and watch her as she worked. From photographs, of course. A child, with its giant grasping hands, would've only gotten in the way.
Have any of your own you want to share, Sara?