Well you guys won. Again. I thought I’d make it so hard on you with the starting sentence that you’d decide you didn’t like it after all. And look what you made of it. Amazing writers, the lot of you. And some fantastic finalists this week, truly incredible stuff you people can do in just five minutes.

This was a close one this week. Couldn’t tell until the very end who was going to win. But, the time has come, that noise you hear is my neighbor attempting to sing. And here’s our winner:

Monocle, @_Monocle_

CONGRATS! (I did love this one.)

Here’s the winning entry. Enjoy it again.

BUT, don’t fail to be back here next week. We’re going to have a #5MinuteFiction surprise next week as part of the blog tour for dk LeVick’s new book, Bridges. So BE HERE!

On the porch there were pomegranate seeds and paint thinner, and upstairs there was a girl.

Ned cut the motor and called out, “Hey there, darlin’! Where’s your folks?” The dark hair disappeared from the window.

The water was just over feet deep as of yet, not even up to the floorboards, but the Mississippi was taking this faded house, and the rest on this street, this town. I tied onto the porch rail – loosely – as water began seeping up through the planks and lapping at the top step, lifting the seeds and buckets to bob in a once-in-a-lifetime current.

Ned looked at me.

“I reckon we better go see if she’s alone.”

I nodded and stepped up to the door, my waders just starting to slosh.

No answer at the knock. Don’t answer strangers at the door. I shook my head. That’s a good girl, but sometimes…

“I’m coming in!” I called, “You’ve got to leave with us – the River’s coming!”

Still silence. There really wasn’t time. I looked over at Ned, who nodded, and gave the door a good kick. Water and I began to pour into the entryway. I made for the stairs, without taking in the pictures lining the hall.

I searched upstairs room by room, calling gently, then urgently. Where was she hiding? The house wasn’t that big. I heard Ned restart the motor, and the house moan as water pressed at the sides.

“Andy! Time to go!”

“But Ned!

The house shuddered. Water on my waders. I took the window.

As the current drew the boat away from the house – or the house away from us? I saw the curtain move. A small hand waving goodbye.