It was just me and 4,400 of my closest writing friends. At 11:59 PM Friday December 8 I got my assignment. To move forward to round 2 I had to finish in the top ten of my group. There’s roughly 27 people in each of a lot of groups. Participants get 48 hours to submit a 250 word story that satisfies three criteria of Genre, Action, and a Word.

Group: 77

Genre: Horror

Action: Watching someone steal

Word: Hope

I started a story at the Writers Studio San Francisco, in 2014, about a guy who was so stoned on Vicodin that he didn’t feel chopping off his finger. The exercise was to write a story about something awful from a distant, dispassionate, even humorous voice, imitating Lorrie Moore’s tone from People Like That are the only People Here. I loved the exercise though it was greeted by scratching heads when I presented it in my spec fiction group ten years later. I tightened it up, added a bit of hope, a stolen finger, and submitted it to NYC Midnight Microfiction Challenge 250.

Semi-Sweet Sixteen

With Vicodin and iPod, he chops carrots for the cake. A hard one gives him trouble. He sharpens the knife on a long silver steel, then gives another go. Slick as snot it chops right off, but he feels a pang of regret as something red stains the neat stack of bright orange carrot spikes. He rinses and pats them dry with the hand that isn’t red. He doesn’t feel the missing digit.

            His sister hopes to win the sweet-sixteen cake contest. She sees the red digit among the choppings on the floor, and steals it into her pocket. Mother will be so proud. The cake is round with sixteen carrot spikes, each flash-frozen, and dipped in semi-sweet chocolate. She plucks one carrot from the cake, pulls the finger from her pocket, and pushes it into place as Mother slinks into the kitchen. 

            “The finger makes the cake” Mother says. “Where did you find it?”

            “On the floor with the carrots.”

            “Has your brother asked for it back?”

            “He’s still chopping. I don’t think he’s noticed.”

            “Take a photo of the cake then get a cardboard takeout box. Wipe the frosting from the finger. Wrap it in kale. Pack it with ice. A dash of salt may arrest the decay.”

            “Should I show it to him?”

            “Just tell him he’s hurt. Wrap his stub. Have him hold the box. Carefully walk him to the clinic.  But post the pictures before you go. Entries are due before dark.

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On February 8, late in the day, I thought I’d been cut. The email came late and I finished in tenth place. Just good enough to make it to round two.

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Beside getting a deadline to get my full attention on a writing project, every entrant gets feedback from several judges. Here’s what they had to say about Semi-Sweet Sixteen.

”Semi-Sweet 16” by Tom Adams –     WHAT THE JUDGES LIKED ABOUT YOUR STORY – {2319}  If the Addams Family ever had a cooking show on the Food Network, it would look something like this droll black humor story. I thought the brother was weird for not noticing his missing finger, but his sister was weirder for sticking the severed digit on the cake, and their mother was the weirdest of the three of them for being delighted at the macabre turn of events.   {2092}  The callous nature of the mother’s conversation with her daughter adds a bit of tension to the ending of the narrative.  {1955}  Well, that turned out unexpected! I was glad the mother and sister wanted to have the brother’s finger reattached—that showed they care about him (nice dialogue here, too that helped understand their dynamics). Also, the fact that he’s making the cake in the first place reflects how they feel about each other (they care). The mother calmly talking about entering the cake contest first before addressing his injury shows they’ve been here before with previous injuries.   WHAT THE JUDGES FEEL NEEDS WORK – {2319}  Obviously, this isn’t your average suburban family, and I wondered if their life outside of competitive baking was as outré as their taste in pastries. Perhaps you could trim the sentence about the brother’s knife-sharpening in order to offer a few details about their appearance, their clothing, or the kitchen they’re in that would show their skewed mindset applies to all things.   {2092}  The verbiage and perspective are a bit muddled throughout the narrative. Ex: ‘With Vicodin and iPod, he chops…’ or ‘His sister hopes to win…’ This detracts from our engagement with the story as the motivations of the characters are relatively unclear – beyond the notion of the contest. Consider reworking the story, focusing on one specific character to flesh out while giving more context for why the finger and contest matter so much.  {1955}  Consider revising your opening sentence. As written, it sounds like the Vicodin and iPod are the tools the character is using to chop the carrots (a dangling modifier). Your story switches from the brother’s point of view (“He doesn’t feel”) to the sister’s point of view (“She sees the bleeding digit”), also known as head-hopping. Consider revising from only one character’s point of view to avoid reader confusion. It would really only take a simple revision, such as, “The bleeding digit sits.” Microsoft Word is showing your story has 246 words so you have a little room to add content if you need to for revisions. You could cut “but” from “Slick as snot it chops right off, but he feels” and break the section it starts into a new sentence.

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Pretty good feedback if I wanted to take this story further. The 250 Word Microfiction Challenge forces authors to economize on language; say the most with fewest words. My second round submission started at 1800 words.

Second round feedback and ranking due out April 3, 2024.