If you have not met flash fiction before, you are in for a treat. If you have, here is yet another attempt to define it, to pin down this most slippery of beasts. And because I am a writer, I’ll define it like this:
Imagine standing at the open door of a room where all is in darkness, and you can see nothing. Imagine someone flicking on the lights - to the count of one, two - then plunging the room back into darkness. You didn’t have time to take in much, but you know exactly what room this is, now - a bedroom, an operating theatre, a kitchen, a courtroom. Odds are, you also remember a few things about the room - something about the bed, for example - something out of place? Something odd about that operating theatre... what was that on the floor in the corner? The kitchen - who was that peering back at you from the window? The courtroom - was that a small boy crying in the dock? But this is today - we don’t put small boys on trial? Do we?
…

If your
house is anything like our house, you’re sitting surrounded by scraps of
wrapping paper, lightly squabbling children, piles of left-over mince-pies, and
a sense of how long the holidays can be..