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My Furious Fiction Flops

Each month, the Australian Writers' Centre offers an intriguing challenge for anyone who'd like to try their hand: to complete a five hundred word short story (or less) in fifty five hours including certain words/settings/phrases/objects.


The key ingredients are released on the first Friday of the month. I have completed a number of these challenges and have only once been long listed. Still, it's a lot of fun and very competitive as entries come from all over the world.


October's Challenge:



The Fast Train

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  • ‘Mum always says, “Never judge a book by its cover.”’ Maggie sniffs into a soggy tissue. ‘I wish I’d listened.’

                ‘Get in, Maggie. You’re blocking the aisle.’ Her sister pushes her towards their seats on the Eurostar. ‘And Mum also told us holiday calories don’t count. That’s how I put on five kilos in Bali last year.’ Alice laughs, and Maggie forces a smile.

                ‘It’ll be okay.’ Alice squeezes her hand. ‘You’ve had a lucky escape from that con artist.’

                That con artist was Andre Garmond, a man Maggie met online and had travelled to Paris to meet. His online profile showed a dark-haired man with eyes as blue as the Mediterranean. He was a vintner, and after Gary the plumber, he was a vision from heaven. But the Andre Garmond she’d finally tracked down was fifty, flabby and smelled of cigars and stale wine.

                ‘Why am I always the stuff up?’ Maggie says, looking out of the window as people shuffle into their seats. Soon the train will be full, will leave the station, and she will leave Paris forever. She swallows a sob, dabbing her eyes with the remnants of the tissue, grateful for the waterproof mascara she’d purchased at the Galeries Lafayette on her arrival. Had she known, even then?

                ‘It’s not that bad, hon,’ Alice says. ‘At least you found out before you pledged your undying love. Remember … what’s his name?’ Alice screws up her nose, thinking. ‘You know … the one from Albany. You were going to sell your unit to fund his video game empire.’

                Maggie doesn’t answer. An announcement in French signals the train’s departure. She doesn’t want Alice reminding her of Simon Artwell. Or as Mum called him ‘the artful dodger.’ Maggie closes her eyes, pushes in her earbuds and replaces the real world with the realm of fairy romance.

                Moments later, she’s dragged back to reality by Alice tapping her on the shoulder. 

                ‘The tickets, Maggie. Where are they?’

                She turns to see a dark-haired stranger leaning over her sister. His eyes sparkle like light reflected on the Mediterranean Sea. Maggie’s heart flutters. He’s gorgeous.

                ‘Excusez-moi, mademoiselle. Perhaps you have the wrong seat?’ 

                Maggie rummages in her bag for the tickets. Yep, wrong number. Alice rolls her eyes.          ‘Maggie!’ she hisses as she manoeuvres herself into the aisle. But, as Maggie exits, the speeding train negotiates a sharp bend. Losing her balance, she sinks into muscular arms. She grimaces as if in pain.

                ‘Mademoiselle, please, sit.’ The Frenchman guides her back to her seat, taking the one vacated by Alice.

                ‘Just give me a moment.’ Maggie lowers her lashes and bites her bottom lip before meeting Alice’s gaze.

                ‘Maybe you could sit over there?’ Maggie points to their designated seat.

                ‘Really?’ Alice raises an eyebrow. ‘Right now?’

                The dark-haired man smells of expensive aftershave and fine wine. And, right now, she has his undivided attention.

                ‘Yes, Alice. Right now. As Mum always says, “You only live once.”’

                 

     

 
 
 

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