Here, I’m focusing on two specific things. The first is the sound of my lines. You should notice the alliteration throughout the piece, but hopefully not to the point where it takes away from the story itself. The second is looking at something from multiple perspectives. This story was written as a homework assignment for a “Tiny Text” class which focuses on flash fiction, ten-minute plays, prose poems, and all other short forms of literature.
Diana, despite having to dive headfirst into the dozens of papers that needed to be graded by Monday morning, woke up and went right to work with a big smile on her face. Diana was the disturbed individual you could find at the register of the grocery store whose attitude was never anything less than the happiest they had ever been. In fact, Diana worked at Doreen’s when she was in tenth grade with her best friend Diane, her next door neighbor, whose mom drove them to school every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, while Diana’s dad drove on Tuesday and Thursday. Diana had a carafe of cold-brewed dark roast coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts waiting for her in the kitchen. She went to the fridge and found the fruit salad one of her students’ mothers had given to her as a gift for helping Francesca with her French history class. Diana taught English, but she spent two semesters abroad in France while at St. Francis College.
After sitting down, feeling full and satisfied, energetic and ready to grade, she put The Beatles on Spotify and went right to Blackbird. Her father taught her the chords when she was in chorus so she could play guitar while she sang. She raised the volume but got herself distracted. She was happy she still remembered the chords and found the guitar her mother gave her as a graduation present, after receiving her teaching certification. She played and played until her fingers bled. Every song that came on brought back a happy memory. When she was on a roll, she couldn’t stop. But she soon realized what time it was and a panic ensued. It was Sunday night and the grades couldn’t wait any more than they already had. Plus, there was a lesson plan that needed to be made and approved by her mentoring teacher; it was a requirement for newly hired teachers fresh out of college. In a fit of panic, she decided a movie would be best and went to bed exhausted, her fingers sore and a smile on her face, happy she still remembered everything from when she was in high school, despite the tears pouring down her face.