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The Second Annual Freewrite 500

Annie Cosby
juillet 30, 2026 | 2 lire la lecture

PRESENTED IN COLLABORATION WITH

Calling all micro-fiction storytellers! 🏁

For the second year in a row, Freewrite is teaming up with Grant Faulkner, co-founder of the Flash Fiction Institute and author of The Art of Brevity, to bring you the fastest, most adrenaline-pumping writing event of the year.

Whether you're a seasoned writer or a creative rookie, the Freewrite 500 is your chance to rev up your imagination, write a 500-word story, and win big.

You do not need to own a Freewrite to participate.

[REGISTRATION CLOSED]

 

How It Works

🎟️ Fill out the form above to secure your spot. It's totally free. (You must register to participate.)

📖 Watch the free mini flash fiction lesson by Grant Faulkner, which includes the announcement of the prompt for the contest. WATCH IT HERE.

📝 You'll have the weekend to finish and submit your 500-word storybased on the prompt by end of day on Monday, August 17. Entries must be 500 words or less. The entry form is plain text. Any necessary formatting should be noted in [brackets]. [SUBMISSIONS CLOSED]

✏️ Our judging panel, led by Faulkner and made up of writers from the Freewrite team and the Flash Fiction Institute, will judge each piece based on: length (500 words), relevance to the prompt, and creativity.

🥇 NEW THIS YEAR: The panel will select three finalists, and then announce one grand prize winner.

All work must be submitted by 11:59 p.m. ET on Monday, August 17, 2026.

The Prize Pack

One winner will receive:

  • Publication on the Freewrite blog and Flash Fiction Institute blog
  • 1 Freewrite Traveler
  • 1 hour-long one-on-one coaching session with Grant Faulkner
  • 1 free Flash Gym session with the Flash Fiction Institute
  • 1 Words Are Hard prompt deck
  • A paperback copy of Set Your Story Free, the ultimate guide to freewriting
  • A digital copy of the opening chapter of Grant Faulkner's book, The Art of Brevity

Second and third place writers will each receive:

  • Publication on the Freewrite blog and Flash Fiction Institute blog
  • 1 Freewrite Alpha
  • 1 free Flash Gym session with the Flash Fiction Institute
  • Words Are Hard prompt deck
  • A paperback copy of Set Your Story Free, the ultimate guide to freewriting
  • A digital copy of the opening chapter of Grant Faulkner's book, The Art of Brevity

The Schedule

  • Thursday, Aug 13: Lesson & prompt announcement
  • Monday, Aug 17: Submissions deadline
  • Monday, Aug 31: Finalists announced
  • Monday, September 7: Grand prize winner announced

Questions? You can reach us at hello@getfreewrite.com.

Write on.

The Freewrite 500 Pit Crew 🏁 

Full contest terms and conditions

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The winning short story in the 2026 Freewrite 500 is "Deathbed Victory" by Rocky Halpern.

I wish my mother could be a little less enthusiastic about losing weight from chemotherapy. Her sharp wrists and angular neck are trophies others remark upon. They look past her hair and eyebrows that are like hay carried away by a thunderstorm and ask if she’s doing keto or mediterranean. 

The world is mesmerized by shrinking things. Mini candy bars, happy meal toys, tiny dogs that fit inside a purse, dollhouses, adults who weigh as much as children. 

My mother wants me to go on Ozempic. I sit next to her hospital bed, and she wraps her wisp of a hand around my thick, pulsing wrist. She asks me to dream of wearing matching bikinis on the shores of a tropical beach. She wants me to share in her religion, recite the sacred text: Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels. 

But chemo has rubbed her tastebuds down to a dull throb, so what does she know about it anyway? 

She dozes off as evening begins to creep. The TV mounted to the wall across from the bed plays a muted rerun of Friends, the one where Monica wears a fatsuit. She is half my size, at least. I turn off the TV, let go of my mother’s hand, and head toward the cafeteria. 

I examine limp premade salads, gray tuna fish sandwiches, and an unmanned make-your-own smoothie station. Eating dinner here doesn’t leave me with much of an appetite. Maybe I don’t need weight loss medication after all, I can just skulk the halls and wonder how much time we have left together. 

How much of that time will my mother spend wishing there was less of me? 

How much less of her can there be before she disappears? 

A nurse is checking her vitals when I return to the room. My mother looks at me, laughs softly, and asks the nurse, Can you believe she used to fit inside of me? 

I think of how we must have been, her warm body encasing mine like a bacon-wrapped date. I wonder if she ate hot fudge sundaes when she was pregnant with me. I wonder if there is a single moment of her life where she didn’t feel terrified of her body. 

My mother is a ghost and it’s the proudest she’s ever been, her deathbed victory lap. Somewhere, Jenny Craig sheds a tear and whispers into the ether, It’s not just about losing weight; it's about gaining life.