Award Winning
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Flash Writing Entry
I'm pleased to share with you
a piece of short ("flash") writing.
as a genre in writing fiction and
non-fiction, it's the challenge to tell a complete story
in the fewest words possible.
and 500 words
and I am pleased to share it with all of you.
My
Wartime Sacrifice
On the afternoon of Tuesday,
December 8, 1942, our whole family, including my two-year-old sister, huddled transfixed
around our Zenith radio. President—Saint
in our home—Franklin D. Roosevelt stunned us with a somber declaration that America
would go to war against Japan.
This followed a horrific attack
on Pearl Harbor… wherever that was. Did anyone on our block know Japan existed?
Not my parents. Not me or my older sister. Did this mean another Great
Depression? Living as we did on Southern California’s West Coast made us wonder
if we might be the next target in Japan’s sights.
The holidays came and went with
few joyous shouts of “Merry Christmas” and “Happy New Year.” Amid the palling
gloom, Santa delivered the greatest present a seven year old boy could hope
for… a shiny metal Ferris wheel! Complete with swinging seats. It stood so tall
it came to my shoulders. My parents weren’t rich, but we weren’t poor either.
Daddy had an important job that other dads on our block must have envied. Night janitor at MGM
Studio in Culver City. The one with Leo the roaring lion mascot. Dad knew all
kinds of important people, like still photographers who took his picture and, with
their miracles of darkness and light, made him look like Clark Gable, pencil mustache
and all.
The calendar turned. 1943. In a
vacant lot across the street from our duplex a sign went up: “Scrap Metal Wanted.
Leave It Here.” Little by little, patriotic neighborhood folks brought their older
pots and pans. Some left dented car fenders, broken tools, and who knew what
people had hidden and forgotten in their black widow friendly garages. As I
played across the street with my prized Ferris wheel, I watched the scrap heap
grow taller, imagining someone’s junk becoming the wing of a speedy fighter
plane.
As yet I had done nothing for the
cause of victory. America’s young men got drafted or volunteered to fight for
my safety. Three uncles answered the call. At my age, I’d never get a chance to
fight for my country… but I could still do my share for Uncle Sam.
No! Not my prized Ferris wheel. Yes.
No-no-NO! Yes… no… YES.
Without telling anyone, I picked
up my favorite Christmas gift and crossed the busy street, but only after
looking both ways as I’d been taught. Standing before the growing pile of assorted junk, I
saw nothing as new and cherished as my shiny and most valued Ferris wheel. I inhaled…
held my breath and let out a groan….
“Don’t do it!” barked a naysaying
voice inside my head.
“You’ll get spanked like never
before,” warned a woman’s stern voice—my mother’s. How would I explain my
decision if challenged?
My well-rehearsed response? “Saint Franklin asked me to.”
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