Micro Fiction Challenge: Catholic
Posted by David Duhr in 
This one could get interesting.
Obviously “catholic” can mean “of or pertaining to the Catholic church,” but did you know it has secular definitions, too? That it can mean “broad or wide-ranging in tastes, interests, or the like; having sympathies with all; broad-minded; liberal,” or “universal in extent; involving all; of interest to all”? For example, “She had catholic tastes, with an appreciation for film, music, arts and literature.”
Your challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to write a piece of flash fiction using the word catholic, in any of its forms and/or definitions. As always, keep your story to 25 words or less, write it out in the comments section below, click “Notify” to keep abreast of your competition, and feel free to use a pseudonym if you’re shy. Your story doesn’t have to make us laugh, but as some cutesy fool once said, “Funny is money.” We’ll announce the winner in this space soon, and we’ll give a shout-out to our favorites on Facebook and Twitter.
This week’s winner earns a free seat in any upcoming WriteByNight seminar or workshop of his/her choice! (Check out our Events page for current and future offerings.)
Our previous challenge, sinecure, was pretty fun, so let’s keep it rollin’. And make sure to catch up on past Micro Fiction Challenges to find out what makes a good winner.
In her catholicity, she liked to promote the young men in her employ to all kinds of positions: their backs, their knees, or all fours.
“Did you hear Joan started feeding the homeless? Says it’s a new era.” she slurred and sat down. “Being Catholic is so… catholic these days!”
Martin Luther hated wimples, thus his rebellion, yet he was never so catholic in his love of women as when he saw their heads uncovered.
Though he craved to be catholic in regards to others’ ideas, the Catholic in him rebelled against talk of birth control, abortion, and evolution. Obviously.
As you may remember, Mom, the worst summer job I ever had was at St. Peter’s Nursing Home as “Cathy The Catholic Catheter Carrier.”
In Italy the sun never sets, it burns the tops of pilgrim’s feet as they cross St. Peter’s Square marking them Catholic and witnessed.
As her nicotine stained hand brushed across the rough denim catholic thoughts hurried his pulse.
Cat Holic: “I’ll be Pope when I grow up.” Mother laughs, says, “To Catholics, women don’t count.” Cat says, “President, then.” Her mom replies, “Haha.”
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