My flash fiction - FRANTIC - wins Writers News Talkback online comp!

Like any writer giving it a go, I'm really pleased to announce another first place for my flash fiction over at Writers News Talkback Forum for December's One Word Challenge. It's particularly pleasing as the competition was fierce (in a nice way). The idea is to write up to 200 words on a word chosen by the preceding month's winner - who then becomes the judge for the following month, if you get me drift.
Well, anyway, the word was 'Frantic' and the winning story is below...

FRANTIC

The superstore was abuzz with shoppers. Clocking the newspaper headlines, “Local Paedophile Escapes,” Ged whisked Beth and Josh to the next aisle.

‘Right, stay close. No wandering.’

Ged became engrossed in reading the back of the supermarket’s own brand of Choco-pops. Instinctively looking down, his heart flickered.

‘Where’s Beth?’

Blasé, Josh clutched a box of Shreddies. ‘Daddy, can I…?’

‘Where’s your sister?’

‘Dunno.’

Ged scanned left and right. He sprinted, stopped at each aisle.

Nothing.

Glancing behind, Josh wasn’t there. Panic swamped him. Torn, he back-tracked. His head pivoted back and forth like an owl on speed.

That headline! Shit. Make a decision.

Frenetic now, he ran for the exit, dodging shoppers. He bumped into a shelf-stacker. ‘Pleeease...lost my kids...Beth n Josh!’

He patrolled the exit foyer, head spinning, eyes manic. Children’s voices amplified, teasing him. Every man was a paedo’, every woman an accomplice. Lips pinched, fists clenched, teeth gritted.

The Tannoy boomed their names. Tears welled, palpitations intensified.

A security guard emerged from the crowd, Beth in one hand, Josh in the other.

‘Dadddeeeee!’

Sobbing, Ged hugged his kids like never before.

A wide-eyed man in a trench-coat strolled past them, sighed then exited the store.


© Col Bury December 2009

And the winner is.............little old me!!! (Col Bury's first fiction comp' win).

Over at Writers News Talkback - a global forum for writers - I've been entering the monthly One Word Challenge Competition on and off for the last year or so. The judge is the previous month's winner and he/she selects a word and the entrants then have up to write a 200 word story as they see fit. It's pretty tricky and the competition is fierce and of a high standard with some excellent and experienced writers participating.

The word for August was 'SET' and there were twenty-six entrants this month. I'm honoured to reveal my winning piece below...
(Feel free to let me know what you think).

GAME, SET AND MATCH.

It was a simple plan, for a simple man. If things worked out there’d be no blood on my hands.

Andrea originally joined the Tennis Club after Cheryl had told her what ‘great fun’ it was. Six months on and Cheryl’s hubby made her quit, but Andrea’s appetite for the club grew stronger somehow.

Initially I was pleased she felt slimmer, fitter, though the fees were somewhat steep, credit crunch and all. But I noticed, despite her new zest, our love life had died.

Being a cop, I decided to investigate. And sure enough: advantage Dempsey, a poser if ever I saw one. ‘Thirty-love?’ More like ‘Dirty-love!’

And so I was set to serve my ace with plenty of top spin. I considered delivering Dempsey my best backhand, but that wasn’t nearly enough. So I volleyed his head and ironically he made quite a racket. Especially when I smashed Andrea’s racket into his nether regions: ‘New balls, please!’

Andrea had just left his flat. I’m forensically aware, remember, plus my alibi was concrete. Motive-wise, Andrea’s the jealous type and Dempsey was rampant at the club. The next court she attended wasn’t half as favourable to her.

Game, set and match.