This post belongs to The Writing Competition Series, click here for more information.

WARNING: substance abuse and foul language

Story submitted in August 2025 by Clara Verrier-Beauchesne

It is important for me to mention here, as an introduction, that this piece was the most personal thing I ever wrote. I dug very deep for it into the dark corners of my mind. I was so extremely proud of it that, of course, when I received my score, I was utterly devastated. After reading the peer feedback however, I finally made peace with the score. They were right. They thought the writing was amazing, but that the story was incomplete. It read more like an introduction to another story. Unfortunately, that’s not the objective of microfiction, it should read as a full story within 250 words. That’s what cost me in the end.

This was a great experience though and it showcases well how amazing the idea behind Writing Battle is. As they say: we live and we learn.

David lies down on the bed, listening to Linkin Park. He holds his CD player close to his chest and plays the yo-yo with his other hand. Up-down. The camper smells of humidity, stale beer, and ashtrays. In the quiet transition between two songs, David hears the muffled sounds of his parents outside arguing about how to fix the flat tire. Curious, he takes off his headphones and sits up to take a peek; he never lets go of his yo-yo. Up-down. David’s father, unsteady on his feet, stares at his wife with bloodshot eyes. His greasy hair sticks to his skull even as he throws his arms forward aggressively.

“You never fucking listen, do ya! I told ya this road trip was a shit idea, now look what you’ve done! You’re fucking useless!”
“It’s not…my fault,” she replies meekly, eyes to the ground.
“No? Whose is it then, huh? MINE?!” 
“You… agreed.”
He kicks a rock as he shouts, “Oh you better be fucking KIDDING ME right now!”
David’s mother takes a step back.
“Please… Robert… keep your voice down. David’s…”
“Don’t be stupid, Mary! He can’t hear me!”

Startled at the mention of his name, David accidentally drops his yo-yo and lies back down clumsily. He puts his headphones on, but the music doesn’t play. Battery depleted. David feels his body grow hot, like a fire in his chest. He throws the CD player at the wall and stares as it breaks into a million pieces.