Barnaby wonders if size matters?

An Indie Author friend set a challenge recently to write a piece of Flash Fiction in 200 words. Never one to shy away from a challenge, Barnaby duly wrote a piece in 200 words, but this set him thinking. Would it have been as good, or better even, in any other length?
Here then is the 200 word version of his story, plus a 100 word version, a 140 character (tweet length) version and a headline version (5 words). Each tells essentially the same tale, but something is added (or is it?) as the length increases. Barnaby is currently considering expanding this story to something between 3,000 and 4,000 words, but will that add anything significant to what's already been said? You can judge. Here are the first 4 versions.

Headline (5 words)

Marketplace bomb kills Afghan girl.

Tweet (140 characters including spaces)

Suicide truck bomb in huge marketplace blast at Afghan army checkpoint kills two soldiers and local girl, who was shopping for pomegranates.

100 word story (excluding title)

Collateral Damage

Farrukh adjusted her niqab, re-examined her shopping list and studied the fruit, while the stallholder halfheartedly dusted the pomegranates. Her mother would be cross if she bought poor quality or paid too much.

Neither of them noticed the approaching truck.

Two soldiers, rifles slung nonchalantly, leaned against the wall.

There was gunfire and the cry "Allahu akbar" as the truck slammed into them, before the world exploded.

Farrukh's eyes flickered open as she lay on the ground, revealing a severed arm lying amongst the smoking debris, still clutching a shopping list.

She felt no pain as her world went black.

 

200 word story (excluding title)

Collateral Damage

Farrukh adjusted her niqab and studied the indifferent fruit piled on the market stall in front of her. The fat stallholder halfheartedly flicked dust off the pomegranates and oranges and wiped his hands on his grubby, grey kameez. She glanced at the heavily creased shopping list in her hand. Her mother would be cross if she bought poor quality, or paid too much.

Neither of them noticed the dust cloud from the approaching truck.

Two soldiers leaned on the wall next to the fruit stall, smoking and laughing loudly, rifles slung nonchalantly across their shoulders.

"Are you buying, or just looking?"

She bowed her head with embarrassment at the stallholder's brusque interrogation.

There was a loud squeal of tyres, a burst of gunfire and the cry of "Allahu akbar" as the truck slammed the soldiers into the wall before the world around her exploded with sound and light.

Farrukh's eyes flickered open momentarily as she lay on the ground, a spreading pool of blood surrounding her head. She saw in the distance, lying amongst the smoking debris and other scattered body parts, a severed arm, still clutching a shopping list. She felt no pain as her world went irreversibly black.

Barnaby Wilde  (Sept 2013)

 

You can find more Barnaby Wilde in a mixture of genres and lengths at www.barnaby-wilde.co.uk  including FREE downloads of several of his e-books.