Modern Flash Fiction originated around 1992 with a book by James and Denise Thomas with Tom Hazuka's book of that name. In their foreword they defined flash fiction as a story that would fit on a two page digest type magazine.
It is not new though, with authors like Bradbury, Hemingway, Kafka and Chekhov to name only a few of the most famous so it had a very respectable history.
More recently of course it is the growth of the internet that has seen Flash Fiction take off. Editors look for shorter works suitable for viewing on a computer screen. It is also an indication of changing reader habits. Reading on a computer differs from reading a book. An author must capture attention within seconds and readers click away faster, so Flash Fiction is ideal for reader's shorter attention spans.
What is flash fiction? Basically it is a complete story written in as few words as possible. It is not an extract or vignette. Traditionally a short story ranges from 2000 to 10000 words. Flash Fiction on the other hand, should be between 55 words and 1000, but probably is best under 500 words. Many markets actually specify an exact word count. 55-Word Fiction, Nano Fiction, and Pen Pricks are all worth investigating.
If you are a writer this is definitely something you should try if only for your own discipline. It is great fun as there are no rules, no restraints except that it be a complete story in few words. You are forced to bare your writing down to the base essentials. Personally, practicing flash fiction has made my writing elsewhere much tighter.
They are a wonderful exercise when you are stuck and when you are having trouble with that blank white page this will get you those creative juices flowing. In Flash Fiction you have no time to introduce characters or preamble, you need to get to the action immediately; you only have time to get straight to the action, to focus on one theme and preferably, have a twist at the end.
A writer's group I belong to, use daily prompts and some of the results are well worth keeping. As an illustration I have included several on my own attempts.
Prompt: Cold as Ice
'Get your feet off me', he said pulling away, "they"re cold as ice.'
'I remember a time when you liked me snuggling up to you.'
Jem peered at her over the top of his glasses, lowering the papers in his hands for a second, "with those feet?" He quirk an eyebrow at her.
Sylvia moved her feet off his leg, replacing it with a much warmer thigh.
Jem tried going back to reading, then gave it up.
Prompt: The Gloves
They were an ordinary pair of gloves, nothing special, in fact they weren't even particularly attractive. Plain brown leather, soft and obviously not new. The thumb and index finger on the right one were worn as if the wearer was in the habbit of rubbing them together. I could actually picture the nervous habit and wondered what the woman looked liked who wore these. Was she small and petite? I slipped one hand inside the glove and found it fitted me perfectly. Not petite then, but average. Blond, brunette, red-head? Pretty, beautiful, attractive? For some reason "striking" was the word that came to me.
Looking up I caught sight of my own haunted eyes in the rear-view car mirror.
Just an ordinary pair of gloves in a car - but they weren't mine
Prompt: Going South
She spotted him as soon as she got on the train. Cool, she thought to herself, I love a man in uniform.
She found herself a seat, across the aisle but one back, so she could watch him. They were both in those two-seater types, not the four seaters with the table in between. She liked these best, much more private, she thought.
His dark head was bent over a book and she strained to see what it was. The movement must had caught his eye because he raised his head and turned bedroom brown eyes her way. A single glance before he went back to his book, but she felt stoned.
She closed her mouth, crossed her legs and looked out of the window at the scenery rushing passed as the train sped southward.
In her mind's eye she could see herself rising and approaching him, sitting next to him. Perhaps she would spread a newspaper over his lap to hide her hand movements from other passengers. Maybe she could get him to follow her to the toilet, there was plenty of room in these new style ones. She had read about things like that happening between strangers on a journey.
Oh, and when I clicked on "I like it" the number did not forward to 6 - this is happening on a number of sites within this society.