In my opinion, flash is a lot like a design charette. Often, it's spurred by an esoteric prompt or image, and the stories that result can be quite surprising. I enjoy writing and reading it. Writing flash is like doing a few jumping jacks in your brain. If you'd like to read some, there are MANY sites serving up delicious little bites of writing from around the world today, including:
National Flash Fiction Day
Flash writing doesn't just happen today--there are many bloggers who run weekly prompts and contests. I'll leave you with a bit of flash I recently wrote for Rebecca Clare Smith's SatSunTails, which happens every weekend.
The estate room at Ludwig & Sons was deep, and dark, and full of strangers. Fabrizio shuffled down the aisle, cane in hand. White flowers lined the walk. It might have been a wedding, but Eliana had married someone else, long ago.
He chose a seat on the right, near the back, out of the way.
The executor stepped to the front. He read her will slowly, the words careful, the tone loving. Murmurs rippled among the crowd at each bequest. The Milan estate went to her niece, the paintings to her nephews. The gifts were generous. The strangers smiled and cried.
At last his name was called. “To Mons. Fabrizio Castelli, I leave my fondest memory.”
He accepted the vial. He inhaled the scent.
It took him there, to the wall, to the warmth of the sun. His lips pressed her cheek. She laughed. They were together. And he was happy.