This story is so intriguing. Have you considered making it into a longer piece?
I struggle to write longer pieces, even when I intend to, so normally my answer to this would always be no. But not in this case. I feel there’s more to this narrator’s story—how being surrounded by objects telling her she’s not wanted has haunted her for her whole life without her knowing it, but also then what it means to discover both this “haunting” and that neither of her parental relationships were what she thought. So, we’ll see!
The father in the story believes girls are made of sugar and spice. What do you believe they are made out of?
Everything.
What interests you about the flash form?
I think good flash fiction is both a whole entity in itself, and a small fragment that speaks of something greater/wider than itself. It’s both a house and a window. It’s incredibly difficult to get that balance, and I hope one day to write something that finds it.
What’s the special furniture the father made for the narrator?
I imagine a bed, bookshelves, wardrobe and desk, beautifully handcrafted from wood, with carvings of fairies and flowers—an apparent physical representation of her father’s love (hiding his darker side written underneath). But the reader owns the story now, so whatever you think is equally true and valid.
If you could write one saying on the walls for someone later to find, what would it be?
It would depend on who that someone was, but as a general rule for humanity: “Don’t be a dick”
