Shorty Story Spotlight: Battle of Wills
I participated in the first round of the NYC Midnight 2025 250-word microfiction challenge. I didn't make it through to Round 2, but I received an Honorable Mention for my story. My prompt was as follows:
GENRE: Drama
ACTION: Faking an injury
WORD: family
MAX WORDS: 250
The faked injury and the word 'family' had to be included for my submission to be considered, and it had to be written in the genre specified.
What the judges said they liked:
The author does a great job showing us Iris's place in this huge family. The third line of the story alone speaks to her imperiousness and presence. I get a good sense of how she wields power, especially in her threats to cut off Kelly.
The turn the story takes when Iris fakes her fall is a great way of extending the conversation, and the twist that this faked fall sets up at the end elevates this story to a whole other level.
I smiled as I got further and further into reading "Battle of Wills". The ending was perfect. This story has everything a fan of the genre expects.
Happy reading!
Battle of Wills
Iris smiled. The ballroom thrummed with family. Eighty-three people, excluding the ‘married ins.’ Occasionally, an unfortunate relative would make eye contact and smile nervously, hoping they weren’t the reason for the summons.
“Mother said you wanted me.”
With a single wave of her hand, Iris directed her errant great-granddaughter into her private office. “I see your friend won’t show his face here,” she said, by way of greeting.
“He’s my fiancé, Grandma,” was the unruly reply.
“If you want a place in my will—” Iris began. It was a mistake. Kelly turned for the door.
Iris took two hurried steps, pretended to stumble, and collapsed, clutching her ankle.
“Help me.”
Fists clenched, Kelly assisted her grandmother to the sofa.
“Thank you,” said Iris. She tightened her grip. “He’s Palestinian. We’re a god-fearing family!”
“Let go!”
“I’ve invited Ellis, our new CEO. He’s older, but that’s good. If you’re ready to be sensible—”
Kelly wrenched herself free. “I’ve had enough,” she spat. “Cut me out. Otherwise, I’ll donate everything to USCPR.”
Tightness gripped Iris’s chest. She reached for her pills.
“You are a poisonous, vile old woman. I will never set foot here again!”
“Kelly,” Iris panted. The pills lay where she had ‘fallen,’ out of reach. “Help—”
“I’m not falling for that twice. Goodbye.”
Iris tried to shout, but she couldn’t breathe.
No one came.
You never interrupted Grandma in her office.
Your place in her will might depend on it.
