Third flash fiction was like the first all over again

And now for the third flash fiction attempt (I don't know that these got significantly better as I continued on writing them):

Jessie is a friend. At least, I think she is. Candice is a friend and Audrey and Donna and Kate and Sara - but Jessie, I don’t know.
I don’t know because when we stood in line together in the second grade, she only talked to the new girl, who was from Russia and therefore interesting. But that was okay. She gave me a pencil later, one with my name on it, and played wolves with me at recess.
I think Jessie is my friend because in middle school, when my grandma died and I first started hating flowers, she sat on my family’s deep freezer and held my hand.
Jessie is my friend because when I was a high school freshman with a crush on that boy in my geography class, she helped me think of ways to meet him then taught me how to curl my hair into pretty ringlets so he would notice me. And then, when he asked me to be his Facebook friend, she freaked out with me in the parking lot and we went out for frozen yogurt to celebrate.
Jessie was definitely my friend on the day that we graduated. We took photos together and laughed and high-fived our favorite teachers, then went to the after party and, well, and she left with that cute guy she had a thing for. But I know she was my friend because later that night, she called me to tell me what had happened - ALL of it.
But now I don’t know, because Jessie won’t answer the phone when I call, and this year, she forgot my birthday. I need to tell her something.
I need to say I’m pregnant and scared, and I could really use a best friend right now to hold my hand. I am not ready for this.

No, I'm not pregnant (though a friend of mine thinks I should change that. Won't happen soon). This idea came into being while it was being written, and at the end, I realized she needed a reason for her best friend, and pregnancy came to mind.

I wanted to capture that moment—back to that approach—when a woman realizes she is going to be a mother. I am sure it is terrifying, exhilarating and altogether overwhelming.

Raphael Soyer's portrayal of the annunciation.

I love this painting by Raphael Soyer. It's of the annunciation, the moment where an angel comes to the Virgin Mary and says, “Hey, you're pregnant!” I think of it as being just a few minutes after the angel leaves. How was Mary feeling? Probably withdrawn, if nothing else. My mom, if I remember right, thought Mary was the woman in the blue. I think Mary is the one with the purple skirt. Either way, it's a powerful painting.

My flash fiction attempt did not at all measure up to this painted pregnancy moment, but then, it was mostly about someone feeling lonely. I don't know that Mary was feeling lonely quite yet (but later, shunned as a pregnant woman without a husband? I'm sure of it).

This story comes off as a little immature to me. Would you agree? Something about how indecisive she is reminds me of high school. So no, this girl is not ready to be pregnant, in my opinion.

Just like with my first flash fiction attempt, I used glimpsed memories to bring life to a person who is not the narrator. As you can guess, a lot of it is from my own life. I don't think the story sucked the reader in enough to make that work, though. It's more of a cheap trick at this point.

The same stuff I said about the first flash fiction goes for this one, though. It's basically the same story, just with different words and a different oh-you-poor-thing ending.

Lesson learned: Don't put multiple memories in one flash fiction piece, building up to a revelation. That story structure does not work. Why? It doesn't resolve, and the build-up seems contrived, unnatural. I'm not sure why it doesn't seem natural, but both stories rang false.

I don't think I was impressed with this one even when I wrote it. My favorite was the one about the oranges, which I'll go over next week.