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Monthly Comp – March 2023

About Forums Den of Writers Monthly Competition Monthly Comp – March 2023

Viewing 12 posts - 1 through 12 (of 12 total)
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  • #13564
    Alex
    Participant

    I pass an employee of the electricity company every day during my lunch break.  He is parked under a tree, feet sticking through his truck’s window.  One day, I pass, and he isn’t there.  Share the story of where he is and what he’s doing.

    No rules other than no more than 500 words by March 31.

     

    #13700
    Alex
    Participant

    No entries to my prompt.  Over to you, Athelstone!

    #13701
    Athelstone
    Moderator

    Well, my vote is another month. If you’re up for it that is. If you’re OK with that, I’ll post an entry in the next few days.

    #13708
    Alex
    Participant

    Yes, I’m fine with your vote for another month.

    #13711
    Kate
    Participant

    A STRANGE ENCOUNTER

    Len slammed on the brakes of his electricity work truck and squeezed his eyes closed. This couldn’t have happened. It had to be his imagination. Too much beer last night and too much coffee this morning.

    He peeked open his eyes and gave a screech more usual for his five-year-old daughter.

    Pressed against the windscreen was a tiny, pointy eared face. Violet eyes glared at him. Lacy wings gave an experimental flutter. The little creature stood up, shook her fist then fainted.

    Len leapt from the truck. This was no trick. A real life fairy was passed out on the truck’s bonnet. What did he do? He looked up and down the country road. It was deserted. He was on his own.

    Fetching his empty coffee cup with shaking hands, he scooped the little creature up and took her into the warmth of the truck.

    ‘Hello,’ he whispered.

    No response.

    Should he call his wife. His work colleagues. An ambulance. Nobody would believe him.

    A groan came from the cup. The creature stirred and sat up. ‘Eugh! Dancing dung beetles, what am I sitting in? You great oaf of a human. First you hit me. Now you cover me in brown gunk. And look at my wings. Have you any idea how long these will take to heal?’

    She scowled and folded her arms. He wilted.

    ‘Badger’s buttocks! I suppose I’ll have to get help.’

    She pulled a ladybird from her pocket and whispered to it. The bug took off, circled the truck’s interior then disappeared through the open window.

    ‘Um…’ Len said.

    She snorted. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got any Lotus nectar. My head is killing me.’

    ‘Um…’

    ‘Can. You. Speak?’ She shook her head and sighed. ‘Trust me to find a stupid one.’

    A thunder of air jerked Len’s gaze back to the road. He gave another shriek. A new creature had landed. This one as big as a man with huge feathered wings and a… halo.

    ‘Pixie,’ the angel said, opening the truck door. ‘What have you been up to this time?’

    ‘Stupid human hit me, Gabe. Thanks for coming to the rescue.’

    ‘You know you shouldn’t be out of Faery Valley, Pixie.’

    ‘I was carrying a message for a dragon in exchange for a chocolate brownie.’

    Gabe held up a hand. ‘You can explain later, Pixie. First I’ll have to wipe this one’s memory.’

    The angel loomed over Len. ‘Sorry about this. I tell you what, I’ll make it up to you. Hmmm. Maybe leave you with a bit of luck.’

    Another scream built in Len’s mouth, then…

    He opened his eyes. What was he doing parked on the side of the road? And where had this lottery ticket come from?

    (457 words)

    #13712
    Athelstone
    Moderator

    Dream of an electrician

    The day that Colin first fell asleep in his van was as cold and unfriendly as a garden privy in the small hours of a winter’s night. Two long shifts, back-to-back, rewiring the mayoral offices in the town centre, saw him close to exhaustion. He had taken his supermarket sandwich down to the seafront and, with the windows closed tight, a couple of unappetising mouthfuls of Caribbean jerk chicken, with mayo, were all he managed before his eyes closed.

    ‘Don’t open your eyes,’ said a man’s voice. It was a soothing voice; not at all threatening. But it had sufficient authority that in his soporific state he could only murmur, ‘OK, I won’t.’

    The next thing he knew, he was warm. Very warm. So warm, in fact, that he welcomed the gentle breeze blowing over his legs. His legs? His legs poked out of the window of the van. And on the breeze, as beguiling as a promise of adventure, came music, faint and distant. It seemed familiar, but he didn’t follow music. Was it reggae, or ska, or calypso? He ran out of names; but one thing was certain: ‘Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Bournemouth anymore.’

    When the sounds of people walking by, their pace, the rhythm and accent of their voices so different from home, completed the picture, it was all he could manage to honour his promise and keep his eyes closed. When he felt he could hold out no longer, at the point when he simply had to look, his mobile rang, harsh and startling. He was in his van, a gale blowing in over the south coast of England, and a lapful of rye-bread, and mayo.

    Next day he tried again, but sleep eluded him. Then it was the weekend. On Monday, he waited impatiently for his lunch-break, found a parking spot by the sea wall and settled down. It was only a matter of moments before the admonition to keep his eyes closed sounded and he found himself back in that distant place. This time there was no music, but instead the fragrance of something cooking, spicy and flavoursome. Still, people walked by. He found the urge to open his eyes, to step out and join them, almost irresistible.

    So, it went on for an entire year. Every working day at half-past twelve, he would visit his secret paradise. On the anniversary of the first occasion, he parked as usual, ate his curried goat wrap, and relaxed in anticipation. Hardly had his eyes closed, when things felt wrong. The seaside gale pursued him into his dream, but worse. His van rattled and shook. His eyes opened. For an instant he glimpsed an empty shopping street with rain lashing down. Then he blinked, and he was back on Bournemouth seafront.

    A voice spoke, ‘Oh no, man. It was just a storm. You looked.’ Then he was alone.

    Try as he might, he never found his way back.

    (494 words ex title)

    #13716
    Sandra
    Participant

    Tickled pink

    Let me say straight away, it wasn’t what you – or any of my workmates – would think. Soon as I got over my … anger, I suppose, and looked at her, saw her, I heard my wife say, clear as if she was beside me, and we’d passed this lass in the street, “Asking for it!” She didn’t always bother to lower her voice, and inevitably I’d look to see what particular invitation sparked her ire.
    And I have to say, to begin with, Jodie certainly irritated me.

    Early April, first day it was warm enough, and the sun rising higher than the houses opposite my usual parking spot. I’d unlaced my boots enough to toe them off, pulled my socks off, pulled the couple of cushions I keep behind the seat, set one for my head and the smaller one over where the glass emerges from the door, so as not to dig into my ankles when I positioned them, pointing out the window.

    I was practised enough at catnapping to be well away when she started. Sensation crept into my dream as the slither of a snake; shocked me awake when I heard its warning rattle, prior to sinking its fangs into me.
    I yelled, sat up. Her face laughed at me through the open window. She held up the feather as explanation. Blonde-streaked hair, strung with beads, rattling against the bodywork had provided soundtrack.

    She was quick to read my fright; its morphing to fury. Amusement bled into apology as she backed away, becoming embarrassment. Seeing me shift forward, she halted. Watched me open the door and slide out, bare feet wincing on the gravel.
    ‘I, I’m sorry, I only wanted to ask you …’

    She stopped and I found myself judging her as would my wife. Trying to guess what she was asking me for. I’d put her at half my age, and me no Adonis, so couldn’t kid myself it was what my wife implied, despite the shortness of her skirt, black tights and … nicely-filled low neck T shirt, (if I’m allowed to observe such things.) Her embarrassment was growing. To help her out I smiled. ‘Ask me what?’

    ‘If you could tell us if the burning smell in our flat is because the wiring’s dodgy. ‘ She gestured along the road. ‘We’ve only just moved in. The landlord says it’s fine, but my parents would want me to make sure.’

    I put on my best frown. ‘You do realise there’s a £70 call out charge?’ and watched her face fall. Quickly – we’ve seen our daughters through uni – I added, ‘But I’ll waive that for a glass of water. Jump in and tell me where we’re going.’

    [451 words]

    #13765
    Alex
    Participant

    I really enjoyed these entries! This was a difficult decision.

    @ Kate, the fairy was a nice surprise. I never saw that coming.

    @ Athelstone, I enjoyed that bitter twist at the end

    @ Sandra, I liked how I never met the wife but through the character, I feel like I met her through his POV.

    Tough decision, but the win goes to @ Kate.

    #13766
    Sandra
    Participant

    Well deserved win Kate, not only for the entrancing fairy story but for the impetus reading it gave me. And thank you Alex for the competition theme – the sort of challenge which stretches and inspires.

    @ Athelstone – would it be possible to put that red reminder banner up more regularly? I confess I’d forgotten about the monthly comp and was glad to be alerted to it.

    #13768
    Libby
    Participant

    Congratulations @Kate

    Another lovely Pix and Gabe story!

    #13775
    Kate
    Participant

    Thanks, Alex. It was fun to give Pixie and Gabe an outing! I’ll have a think about a theme for the coming month.

    #13783
    Athelstone
    Moderator

    That Pixie gets everywhere. Well done Kate!

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