"Outworn," published July 2026 by Dark Winter, online literary magazine

 

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Outworn by Ruth Latta

• 34 minutes ago
• 3 min read

“For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn.”

Our writing instructor presented this sentence to us as an example of flash fiction. Although he was sure none of us could surpass this gem by Ernest Hemingway, he advised us to seek publication in this burgeoning market. He always chose as his examples of good writing someone from the male-dominated literary canon, though the class included ten women and two men.

Earlier, he’d told us Hemingway’s philosophy of leaving out what a reader can imagine, to create a stronger story. About his one-line tale, Papa Hem had said, “It’s the saddest story ever told.”

“The reader infers that some ill befell the baby,” our teacher continued. “Either it was a blighted hope, or a life nipped in the bud, or it died before it needed shoes to walk. It also It shows that, in spite of his cultivated hyper-masculine image, he was a sensitive guy.”

My lip twitched. The great white hunter had definitely been caught up in his own feelings, but from what I’d read, he’d ridden  rough-shod over those of others.

One of the women raised her hand.

“I don’t see this necessarily as a sad story,” she said. “Possibly the baby had outgrown them by the time it was learning to walk. That was so with my boy.”

Another woman spoke up. “Those white lace-up boots that kids wore in days gone by were constricting.  Maybe the mum let the baby go barefoot in warm weather.”

“My first year as a newlywed, I taught elementary school to earn money to study for my Master’s degree,” said the senior lady beside me.  "At the end of June, a little girl gave me a pair of baby bootees she’d knitted, in green yarn, one bigger than the other. I thanked her but felt trapped by traditional role expectations.  Also, if I had a child, I hoped its feet would both be the same size. I threw the bootees out, but maybe I should have put them in a sale.”

The room erupted with laughter. A young woman waved her hand.

“In this micro-story, was Hemingway alluding to his longer story, ‘Hills Like White Elephants,’ in which the guy wants the girl to have a termination?” she inquired. “Did he care about babies? He divorced two wives and left the children from each marriage to be raised mostly by their mothers.”

The instructor’s expression cycled from surprise to amusement to irritation.

“These days, Hemingway doesn’t appeal to the ladies,” he said sardonically. “However he’s a master of the ‘short-short’ story. Take his inter-chapters in In Our Time.  Can anyone suggest an equally accomplished, known female author of ‘short-shorts’?”

“How about Virginia Woolf’s ‘In Kew Gardens’ and ‘Lapin and Lapinova'?” the first woman suggested.

“Alice Munro’s ‘Pru’ isn’t micro-fiction, but it’s a short-short,”  the second woman piped up.

“Another example is Isabel Allende’s ‘Our Secret,’ from The Stories of Eva Luna,” said a third.

“Don’t forget Amy Hempel’s ‘Housewife,’” I suggested.

“We could also  look at Evan Connell’s collections of vignettes, Mrs. Bridge and Mr. Bridge,” said one of the fellows.

An elderly woman gave the guy a thumbs-up.

“Yes! Connell has a surprising understanding of women.”

“There are two excellent short-shorts by Charlotte Perkins Gilman,” another woman said. “‘Locked Inside’ is just seventy words, and ‘An Extinct Angel,’ nine hundred and fifty.”

Our instructor, frowning, glanced at the clock.  

“Food for thought,” he said. “Well, time to say so long. Next week I’ll be discussing how to write ‘chick-lit.’”

Ruth Latta writes Canadian historical novels with women as central characters. Visit her blog at ruthannelatta.blogspot.ca