Here is a piece of flash fiction I wrote for an assessment. Feed back would be valued.
Emily Schrödinger peels off the star stickers casually,
sticking them onto the enormous yellow box in front of her. Her father fastens
a crimson ribbon around it while her brother scribbles a message on a sticky
note. “Thank heavens we thought of it, Maurice,” chatters a slim woman, tapping
her manicured nails. “Imagine the fuss your grandma would’ve put up if we
forgot.”
“Well, Myra darling, I’m known for my genius.”
“Well, Myra darling, I’m known for my genius.”
Freja Schrödinger dodders towards her door, slippers
shuffling on the vinyl floors. Carer Pauline smiles, taking her hand and
leading her to the function room. “Where am I?” Freja Schrödinger’s diction is
muddied by age.
“You are in Montview Aged, Freja. It’s your birthday today!” The carer’s polished voice recites scripted lines, calming and re-educating the old woman about herself.
“Oh, I love birthdays! How old am I?”
“90, Freja, 90 today. All your family is coming to visit!”
Her lined hands shake, lovingly straightening cutlery, bedecking the function room with gold balloons, checking on the cooking. Her lips infinitely mouth, “I love birthdays,” as she works.
“You are in Montview Aged, Freja. It’s your birthday today!” The carer’s polished voice recites scripted lines, calming and re-educating the old woman about herself.
“Oh, I love birthdays! How old am I?”
“90, Freja, 90 today. All your family is coming to visit!”
Her lined hands shake, lovingly straightening cutlery, bedecking the function room with gold balloons, checking on the cooking. Her lips infinitely mouth, “I love birthdays,” as she works.
A stream of relatives begins to flow. They come, some
awkward, some at home. They come bearing envelopes or hauling gifts. Maurice
Schrödinger and his family stride in slightly late. Smiles are plastered onto
their faces, but Emily’s is hidden by an enormous box. The siblings join the
line of children to obediently kiss their great-grandma on her papery,
sweet-smelling cheek while she dithers over their names. After feasting on the array
of cakes and titbits, Freja announces, “I want to open my presents.”
She embarks on a voyage of discovery into the recesses of
the boxes and envelopes, helped with any difficult knots by her carer. At last
she reaches the Schrödinger’s box. Maurice steps forward. “Can I tell you
what’s inside, grandma?”
She nods, fiddling with her hearing aid.
“Grandma, you’re so special to us, so, so special. So for your 90th birthday, we decided we wanted to celebrate many more birthdays. What does this box contain? It contains life, grandma, pure life. So keep it safe. Who knows what would happen if you lost it…”
“What a good boy you are, Michael”
“Maurice”
“Maurice, yes, such a kind young man. I shall treasure it with all my heart.”
The old lady shuffles to the chair beside her bed. She pats the box protectively, cooing to it to stay safe. The ribbon still fastens the box shut sternly; its star stickers glint silver. She settles exhaustedly into the chair, closes her translucent eyelids and whispers, “It was a nice day.”
She falls asleep.
Hope you enjoyed it, hope you got it, tell me what you think.
Ellie
She nods, fiddling with her hearing aid.
“Grandma, you’re so special to us, so, so special. So for your 90th birthday, we decided we wanted to celebrate many more birthdays. What does this box contain? It contains life, grandma, pure life. So keep it safe. Who knows what would happen if you lost it…”
“What a good boy you are, Michael”
“Maurice”
“Maurice, yes, such a kind young man. I shall treasure it with all my heart.”
The old lady shuffles to the chair beside her bed. She pats the box protectively, cooing to it to stay safe. The ribbon still fastens the box shut sternly; its star stickers glint silver. She settles exhaustedly into the chair, closes her translucent eyelids and whispers, “It was a nice day.”
She falls asleep.
Hope you enjoyed it, hope you got it, tell me what you think.
Ellie