There can be only one…
Calling all ladies and lords of the page, be it paper or pixel! We seek those proficient in wielding their pen with precision to compete for the right to be titled a champion of genre literacy—known hereafter as an Iron Writer.
Brave souls, are you ready and willing to embark upon a year long competition that pits writer against writer each month? The danger is inherent… you may stumble over blocks, endure paper cuts or risk carpal tunnel… but the rewards will be worth it. 
Are you ready to fight for the cause of fiction and compete for infamy? Sign up if you dare. 




What is the Iron Writer challenge?

Every month writers will compete against each other, writing a flash fiction story of 1,000 words or less that uses four elements that will be revealed at the beginning of the competition. Writers will have seven days to complete their masterpiece, and then readers will be invited to vote on their favorite. The story with the most votes wins. In the event of a tie, the winners will face off in a Flash Battle to determine the winner. Monthly winners will compete quarterly, and quarterly winners will compete next year for the title of Iron Writer 2021.


Submissions close September 15. We welcome submissions after the deadline. However, late posts will not be added to the vote.


Do You Know Why Ypu Are Here?

              “So,” the principal began wearily, “do you know why you are here – again? Hello, Mr. Kintyre, did you hear me?”           Of course, I had heard her, but my attention had been drawn immediately and magnetically to the four pictures on the wall above her head....

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A Job Offer

I definitely was not going crazy. Nevermind the fact that I was standing on a deer trail, in the middle of nowhere, talking to a small dog, a pug actually, wrapped in a blanket. Oh, and it was talking back to me. “So, let me get this straight, your name...

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“So, while there are theoretically infinite colors in the universe,” Professor Tanaka said excitedly as he circled the infinity symbol on the chalkboard, “the human eye can only detect between two and three million of them!” Despite the oppressive heat and humidity in the classroom, Bree smiled. Mister Tanaka’s Color...

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Things Left Undone

The phenomenon started a week ago. I first heard the sweet melody of a violin somewhere inside my mother’s house. It was Jules Massenet’s ‘Meditation’, seeming to float down the hallways and in and out of bedrooms until finding its way to my ears. It couldn’t be, though. Dad loved...

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Into His Arms

  Into His Arms An almost full moon shimmered across blue-grey paddocks. Evening colours muted dry daytime hues, reducing misted visibility to an avenue of trees in fog. Dead eucalypts stand sentinel and tar road edges. Skeletal reminders of once dense populations which kept the first people sheltered and nurtured....

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looking for the head

a statute at the opening to a cemetery is falling apart. a boy comes to the cemetery to pay his respects to his teacher and the statue is there. he wonders what happened to the head because its gone. he looks and can find it. he has to wear a...

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Losing My Head

I like the look of the boy walking down the middle of the road. He keeps his feet on the asphalt with a shuffle-slide kind of gait. He is bundled up from the cold, but it is still just autumn. Every time the wind runs invisible fingers through the leaves,...

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Dry autumn leaves crunched beneath worn tennis shoes. The plastic accents glinted in the fading sunlight. Ashe took another step before stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. They were close now. Ashe pulled a long silver baseball bat from where it sat strapped to their backpack. They swung it...

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