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Submitted to Contest #337
Wednesday 1st Jan 1986This term, I am not going to even think about Tom Jennings.I will not go to his room when I’m feeling lonely or insecure.I will not go to his room when I’ve had a couple of drinks in the bar – not orange juice, that pink fizzy one that Fiona got me to try. It doesn’t taste like alcohol but it makes my head feel fuzzy and that’s definitely not a good thing.I will go to every one of my lectures.I will complete all of Dr Pickup’s translation homeworks and hand them in on time.I will try not to get embarrassed when Paul Con...
Submitted to Contest #306
Dora to Fiona, Sun 8 June at 21.37Dora: OMG! Freddie’s proposed! 😊 Fiona: OMG! Congratulations! Dora: He actually got down on one knee and produced a ring! Fiona: When’s the date? Fiona: BTW, I’ve got news too.Dora: August 2026.Dora: Just noticed your other text. You mean you and Julian?Fiona: Guess who’s getting married in 12 months.Fiona: Crossed texts again.Dora: How did he ask you?Fiona: It was so corny. He said he always knew I was Miss Right but how did I fancy being Mrs Wright.Dora: Lad jokes. And technically you’re Miss Lang.Dora: St...
Submitted to Contest #303
Ivy is seventeen the first time she sees Alec. She and Renee have finished their shift at the cotton mill and are walking home together when they see the crowd of people gathered round a man on a stool in the park. They stop to watch, and Renee lets out a giggle. “He’s having his hair cut, Ivy! Look!” Sure enough, the large gentleman on the stool is having his hair snipped away by a dashing young man with shiny scissors and the bluest eyes Ivy’s ever seen. With a flourish, the young man finishes his handiwork and then produces a little brush...
Submitted to Contest #299
The accident was definitely not Lucy’s fault. For one thing, the bad-tempered man in front of her hadn’t been looking where he was going; and for another, it was his coffee and not hers that she was now wearing on the front of the pristine white blouse she had selected for the early morning staff meeting.“Can’t you look where you’re going?” Mr Grumpy obviously thought it was her fault, not his. No apology. No “I’m sorry - can I pay for you to have that dry cleaned?”“It was your fault!” she replied spiritedly.“I hardly think so. I was just le...
Submitted to Contest #292
It was those green eyes that caught my attention the first time I noticed her. They were an incredible shade: almost khaki. Green eyes and long, white-blonde hair. Black jeans so tight they seemed like a second skin, and a loose-fitting black top. Striking – that was how people described her. I thought of her as Ella, my green-eyed goddess, in those first few weeks of dancing on a knife-edge between desire and despair. I was nineteen at the time, fumbling my w...
Florence, in the Year of Our Lord, 1503:I have been commissioned to paint a portrait of Francesco del Giocondo’s wife, Lisa, once she is delivered of their second child. This is an honour indeed, for Mona Lisa is a Gherardini by birth and both families, although not wealthy, are well respected. However, the lady is not suited to her current condition for her face and hands are presently puffy and she finds it hard to heave herself from the couch on which she lies. Her little boy, Piero, is five and an angelic little cherub too! Signor del Gi...
Submitted to Contest #291
It was evening when I first saw her, but her beauty lit up the cottage like a blazing lantern. The seven of us were dirty and sweaty from toiling all day in the mine – tired too: it takes it out of you after a while – but our fatigue vanished when we beheld this lovely creature, curled up across several of our beds, dark hair fanned out over the pillow. Jon was the first to say anything. “A fairy – in our ‘ouse!” he breathed. Poor soul – he was dropped when he was a baby and he’s been a bit simple ever since. “Don’t ‘ee talk daft!” Gort ch...
Submitted to Contest #290
The bitter cold of winter seeps into my skin as I struggle through the snow, the child in my belly weighing me down so that I slip and stumble. I cannot turn back: my father’s house is a prison and he my gaoler. And if the babe-to-be-born is female, as I suspect… Far off in the distance lies the safety of the village. I know not if the stagecoach has already arrived to take Jem to the London docks and the transportation ship that awaits him there. If so, I wil...
My phone pings as I leave the office. A message from Jenny. Table booked at the Bella Vista for 7pm. Don’t be late. Ordinarily, I’d enjoy the prospect of Italian food, followed by a night of dancing at Jimmy’s – the hot, new nightclub that’s just opened in town. But today just happens to be my birthday – a fact I haven’t shared with Jenny and Amanda, my housemates for the past three weeks. ...
Lizzie’s father, Josiah, unties his neckerchief and wipes the sweat from his forehead. She knows he’s trying to ignore the perspiration dripping down his back as he winds the rack and pinion to lift the paddle which will allow water to drain from the lock, bringing them downhill. It should be her brother, Daniel, doing this and Joss should be leading the horse, but Dan has a sore head from a surfeit of ale last night and her da doesn’t trust him to do the job properly. He could ask Lizzie, but she’s as slender as Dan is stocky – although rec...
Submitted to Contest #289
This neighborhood definitely wasn’t what she’d been expecting. Amidst towering skyscrapers and opulent hotels, a squat grey building of only three stories sat looking as out of place as a dowdy aunt at the Oscar awards. Samantha Reilly checked her GPS once more: this was definitely the right place. Exiting her car, she made her way towards the unassuming looking structure, her mind running over the letter she’d recently received. “If you want information about the downtown killings, come to this address.” It was years since anyone had put pe...
Submitted to Contest #287
The smell of sawdust assaults Arthur’s nostrils as he waits patiently for the high wire act to finish. His face is hot beneath the white greasepaint that hides his handsome face and his heart thumps wildly as he gazes upwards. One of the tightrope walkers stumbles and sways and the crowd gasps, holding its breath lest the diminutive man falls. He won’t, of course: Pippo is one of the most talented acrobats in the business. He may be small in stature, but his talent is gigantic. He is the brother of Lorenzo, the circus ringmaster, and the hus...
Submitted to Contest #284
‘Another glass of red.’ ‘We’re closing in 5 minutes. Sorry.’ Josh blinked blearily at his watch. ‘It’s only quarter to,’ he protested. ‘You’ve got time to pour me another.’ ‘Last orders are always 20 minutes or so before we start chucking people out.’ She was only a slip of a thing, but the girl behind the bar stood her ground. ‘Anyway, you haven’t finished that one yet.’ He tossed the liquid down his throat just to spite her. He didn’t enjoy the taste these days – but then he’d always had other reasons for drinking. What did that doctor kn...
Submitted to Contest #259
My first marriage lasted less than two years but was extremely eventful. Looking back now, one incident in particular stands out: a week in Aubigny-en-Artois in the north of France: a week when I realised that my husband couldn’t be trusted. It is August 1988 and Steve and I are about to celebrate our first wedding anniversary. We are both twenty-one, both students, and we have a baby girl, Lily, who is six and a half months old. Our marriage was precipitated by my unplanned pregnancy, following in the footsteps of Steve’s parents, Mark and ...
Submitted to Contest #258
I re-read the letter, noting the time and date of the celebration. A part of me thinks I should go; another more cautious side of me whispers that I shouldn’t bother. But there was a time, once, when Stef was my best friend… The cardboard box has been under my bed for so long that it’s accumulated enough dust to make me sneeze. I find a cloth and wipe down the outside carefully before removing the lid. Memories I’ve kept hidden for years stare at me – relics o...
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