Flash Fiction Judge’s Report Q1 2026

Judge’s Report by Rachael Dunlop

One of the most frustrating things about being a competition judge is not being able to reach out into the ether to each of the writers who didn’t quite make it to the winners’ podium and tell them which one little thing it was they didn’t quite nail, where there was a slip of craft that would be easily fixable, which voice didn’t quite convince. The margin between a great story and an outstanding one is really very small. There were so many great stories in this shortlist, tackling the big subjects (death, love, family) along with smaller significant moments (a man holds a bird and is profoundly changed; a girl feeds a dog and a family legend is born). The stories that rose to the top for me were the ones where the voice was confident, where I was secure in the point-of-view I was being offered, and where carefully chosen language and word choices were used to do double or triple duty in creating layers of meaning.

First Place: THE WEIGHT OF A HUMMINGBIRD

This superb story has pretty much every element I look for in flash fiction. The prose itself is stunning, using very carefully considered word choices to create descriptions that feel lush and expansive but are actually concise and controlled. The opening paragraph is a masterful demonstration of how to ground the reader immediately into a setting and with a specific character. That simple phrase ‘the island’s only tractor’ is all we need to know about where we are and who this man is. I loved the contrasts throughout between heaviness and lightness, and how they resided in both man and bird, and the parallels between this big man whose hands don’t know how to be quiet and the vibrant, thrumming, ever-moving hummingbird. The story never leans into sentimentality – the bird is strange and other, with ‘fierce, ancient impatience’ – which makes the ending all the more emotionally powerful.

Second Place: IS IT PRONOUNCED SHREWSBURY OR SHREWSBURY?

Flash is the perfect place to play with form and here it is done brilliantly with a lightness of touch and assured voice. The format is a piece of homework – an outline for a story – but the real story lies in the details, between the lines and, gloriously, in the footnoted teacher comments. I found it genuinely touching how the narrator expresses a need to be heard and understood and the teacher responds, gently opening the door for them to open up. The joke about Shrewsbury is more than a throwaway bit of humour (although it is funny). It’s also a reminder that we can all read the same thing and each ‘hear’ something different. This story is funny, touching, clever and has that most important ingredient of all: emotional authenticity.

Third Place: THE SACRIFICIAL FISH OF SATURDAY AFTERNOON

A lovely, nostalgia heavy (almost) breathless paragraph story. I say almost because while the bulk of the story is one rolling sentence, the writer very judiciously creates a subtle shift by putting the brakes on with a paragraph break. In the second paragraph there is a subtle shift of point-of-view, so we get the sense of the story being told and retold by the granny. The story moves from interiority told from deep inside the child’s head, to a story that exists external to the child. Here, then, is the essence of growing up: discovering externality beyond ourselves. The prose itself is a delight, perfectly capturing the child’s perspective and incorporating so many lovely details with gentle humour. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the image of the boil-in-the bag fish dangling over the kettle from the tip of a knitting needle. 

A quick mention for three other stories that stood out for me: ‘A fully formed being’ with its pared back prose and perfect twist; ‘Harvest’, which captures the intensity of a moment with wonderful sensory detail; You Left But We’re I’m It’s Fine with its wonderfully unself-aware narrator. These all had the potential to make the top three.