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Tomorrow (Saturday) I go into competition.
Writing against the clock. I get sent a topic and word count, and then have 36 hours to provide a story, the best receiving a prize of £50, and two runners up prizes of £25.
I'm looking forward to it, but really, it's fallen during a difficult weekend. My wife is working in the morning, and in the evening on Saturday, so I'll only have the middle of the day to do it, during which time Man Utd play Newcastle, a match I didn't really want to miss.
On Monday it's my brothers birthday, and I have to get him a present at some point, so this will put a dent in Sunday, and I'll have to give the FA Cup semi's a miss too.
I'll probably end up having to work through Saturday night to get it right.
Once the competition is over, I might just post it here for you to read. Perhaps I'll put it online during the day, and ask for suggestions!
Can't wait for the topic now though, and to get started. Just twenty two hours and twenty five minutes...
Writing against the clock. I get sent a topic and word count, and then have 36 hours to provide a story, the best receiving a prize of £50, and two runners up prizes of £25.
I'm looking forward to it, but really, it's fallen during a difficult weekend. My wife is working in the morning, and in the evening on Saturday, so I'll only have the middle of the day to do it, during which time Man Utd play Newcastle, a match I didn't really want to miss.
On Monday it's my brothers birthday, and I have to get him a present at some point, so this will put a dent in Sunday, and I'll have to give the FA Cup semi's a miss too.
I'll probably end up having to work through Saturday night to get it right.
Once the competition is over, I might just post it here for you to read. Perhaps I'll put it online during the day, and ask for suggestions!
Can't wait for the topic now though, and to get started. Just twenty two hours and twenty five minutes...
Page:
Hey Meka Dragon- How lohg was it before you won your first game?
Thanks you guys. I didn't think it was that good myself, I enjoyed Meka's more. But thanks for the encouragement.
I'd be glad if it even got into the notables pile really.
Anyway, the results are out 1st of May, so not long till we find out. Best of luck Meka.
Oh, and I'll check those sites out.
I'd be glad if it even got into the notables pile really.
Anyway, the results are out 1st of May, so not long till we find out. Best of luck Meka.
Oh, and I'll check those sites out.
Wow Blank, that was excellent! I wasn't sure about the "mini-me" line but it flowed and moved along really well, and you pulled off the ending perfectly! I hope you do well!
Blank, I really enjoyed your story.
I loved the first line, it immediately throws you right in there.
Hope it does well.
I'll be chuffed if mine gets a mention next month, can't wait for it now, but I'll keep myself busy with the 1500 word limit competition at:
www.smilingpolitely.com.au
and the one at:
www.writersinc-london.org.uk
Then I'll have to find some with May closing dates, and maybe I'll send my story for this one to one of the women's magazines, I think it would suit them.
I loved the first line, it immediately throws you right in there.
Hope it does well.
I'll be chuffed if mine gets a mention next month, can't wait for it now, but I'll keep myself busy with the 1500 word limit competition at:
www.smilingpolitely.com.au
and the one at:
www.writersinc-london.org.uk
Then I'll have to find some with May closing dates, and maybe I'll send my story for this one to one of the women's magazines, I think it would suit them.
That was very well wriiten Meka Dragon, and was enjoyable to read. Thought you made a spelling error at first, as the word 'loose' looked a little dodgy.
Well it was certainly great in comparison to mine. The ending wasn't that exciting, but I think it was the best it could have been. I like the way there are two, even three twists to it.
Anyway, here's mine:
Nothing Malicious
Chris was good looking. Unfortunately David wasn’t.
Chris and David were friends. They hadn’t known each other for long, only since they’d started college, but they hung around together most of the time. There was a group of about five or six of them who would always end up beside the fountain at breaks and lunch.
Chris and the others would often give David a hard time, but he let it go because he knew it was just a bit of fun, nothing malicious. Nobody ever laughed at Chris.
Over the last few weeks David had been getting ribbed more and more often by Chris, which, of course, prompted the others to continue the jokes. Chris realised he was doing it, although it wasn’t on purpose. It was just that, for the last few weeks, he was noticing that David was idolising him. Becoming him. He’d started to wear the same brands of clothes. His mannerisms were becoming similar. Even the way he ate his lunchtime burger was changing.
And Chris didn’t really like it. It was nice to have an influence on someone, but he liked his individuality. So without meaning to he’d responded by picking on David. And tomorrow he had to confront him about it.
“Hey David, I like your shirt,” he said before lessons started, knowing well he had the same shirt in his wardrobe.
“Err, yeah,” replied David, also aware that Chris owned a duplicate.
“Where d’you get it from?”
“…that shop on Main Street, near the shoe place,” he was looking very confused.
“Cool. See ya later,” Chris responded as he ran off to his lesson, hoping he’d done the trick and made David realise what he was doing.
Chris turned up as usual by the fountain at break and dinner. He waited patiently for his friend to bring up the issue, but it never materialised.
The next day Chris was dumbfounded when David arrived at college with his hair gelled in an amazingly similar way to his. David never gelled his hair.
“I just thought I’d try something different,” he said. Chris was very angry but tried to put it behind him and concentrate on where he was going out tonight. It was a club that had only opened about a week ago, and he was pretty sure David had never been clubbing before.
At nine o’clock Chris arrived in the club. He went to the bar and waited for the barman to notice him. At 9:10 he spotted someone who looked very familiar. He strode over confidently. It couldn’t be David, he told himself. He doesn’t even go out, let alone go clubbing. But against all odds it was David, standing awkwardly near the wall.
“David, what the hell are you doing here?” he spouted rudely.
“Well, I heard you were coming, I thought I’d come along,” he was looking away as he said it.
“Why? You don’t even LIKE clubs!” Chris said, his voice raising in pitch and gaining a few decibels. A sheepish response came, but Chris couldn’t really make it out against the loud background noise.
“Over the last few weeks you’ve gradually been turning into me! Or at least, I’ve only noticed it in the last few weeks, God knows how long it’s been going on!” he was shouting now. Again David muttered something inaudible.
“I don’t where I stop and you begin! If I look in a mirror now I don’t whether it’s you or me looking back!” and with that he turned and walked out of the club without waiting for a response, his night thoroughly ruined.
Over that weekend Chris deliberately didn’t leave the house. He couldn’t bear it if he saw David again somewhere other than college. He dreaded to think what other changes he would have made to himself – would he have stretched himself the extra five inches so he was as tall as Chris? Would he start wearing bigger shoes? Even cosmetic surgery wasn’t out of the question as far as he was concerned. He would just have to hope that Friday’s little rant was enough to make him back down a little, or at least make him see what he was doing.
Chris had never seen the importance of two people wearing the same outfit at the same time until it happened to him. Far from driving David off, they’d somehow managed to wear exactly the same clothes. From jeans to cap, David was now Chris’s “mini-me”.
So David was strenuously avoided for the rest of the day. Chris didn’t even go near the fountain – naturally some of the group came to look for him, which he knew they’d never do for David, but it didn’t comfort him much. He had to think of some sort of way to shrug off his clone and get his personality back. He had to come up with a plan. And that was the reason why his friends found him very distant that day.
When he got home he turned on the TV, and began to watch a programme about Japan.
“Here, no windows open above the ground floor”, the narrator was saying. And the plan came to him almost instantly. Of course he would need a few days off college, but he could pull it off pretty easily and he could afford to miss some lessons.
Next morning he grabbed an onion from the kitchen and set off to college. He told one of the gang to go somewhere else at break, and knew they would tell the others. Through first lesson his anticipation was at its maximum, he couldn’t wait to set the plan into action, while at the same time he was nervous that it would go wrong.
At break he went to the fountain early. He gouged into the onion with his nails, and rubbed his hands all round his eyes. The result was bloodshot, red eyes, and he was also crying from the onion. Simon turned up, and instinctively asked him what the matter was, even though Chris had been more than short with him the last few days.
And Chris told him. He told him that he was sick of the world, sick of his life. Sick of the people in the group who only want to be near him because he’s good looking. Sick of his family life and college pressure. He knew David would agree with him. Sooner or later.
“Yeah, I see what you mean…” he said. It was only a matter of time. And then Chris went for the grand finale – that he was going to commit suicide. David went quiet, as he knew he would, and then it was lesson time again.
On Friday, Chris was raring to get back to college after his week off. Not least because he would finally have scared David away from mimicking him. It was five o’clock, and he heard his Mum come home from work. A few minutes later she came into his room, crying. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.
“Tell you what?” he replied honestly. She flung a newspaper into his arms and turned away. He looked at it. The title read: “Obituaries”.
Anyway, here's mine:
Nothing Malicious
Chris was good looking. Unfortunately David wasn’t.
Chris and David were friends. They hadn’t known each other for long, only since they’d started college, but they hung around together most of the time. There was a group of about five or six of them who would always end up beside the fountain at breaks and lunch.
Chris and the others would often give David a hard time, but he let it go because he knew it was just a bit of fun, nothing malicious. Nobody ever laughed at Chris.
Over the last few weeks David had been getting ribbed more and more often by Chris, which, of course, prompted the others to continue the jokes. Chris realised he was doing it, although it wasn’t on purpose. It was just that, for the last few weeks, he was noticing that David was idolising him. Becoming him. He’d started to wear the same brands of clothes. His mannerisms were becoming similar. Even the way he ate his lunchtime burger was changing.
And Chris didn’t really like it. It was nice to have an influence on someone, but he liked his individuality. So without meaning to he’d responded by picking on David. And tomorrow he had to confront him about it.
“Hey David, I like your shirt,” he said before lessons started, knowing well he had the same shirt in his wardrobe.
“Err, yeah,” replied David, also aware that Chris owned a duplicate.
“Where d’you get it from?”
“…that shop on Main Street, near the shoe place,” he was looking very confused.
“Cool. See ya later,” Chris responded as he ran off to his lesson, hoping he’d done the trick and made David realise what he was doing.
Chris turned up as usual by the fountain at break and dinner. He waited patiently for his friend to bring up the issue, but it never materialised.
The next day Chris was dumbfounded when David arrived at college with his hair gelled in an amazingly similar way to his. David never gelled his hair.
“I just thought I’d try something different,” he said. Chris was very angry but tried to put it behind him and concentrate on where he was going out tonight. It was a club that had only opened about a week ago, and he was pretty sure David had never been clubbing before.
At nine o’clock Chris arrived in the club. He went to the bar and waited for the barman to notice him. At 9:10 he spotted someone who looked very familiar. He strode over confidently. It couldn’t be David, he told himself. He doesn’t even go out, let alone go clubbing. But against all odds it was David, standing awkwardly near the wall.
“David, what the hell are you doing here?” he spouted rudely.
“Well, I heard you were coming, I thought I’d come along,” he was looking away as he said it.
“Why? You don’t even LIKE clubs!” Chris said, his voice raising in pitch and gaining a few decibels. A sheepish response came, but Chris couldn’t really make it out against the loud background noise.
“Over the last few weeks you’ve gradually been turning into me! Or at least, I’ve only noticed it in the last few weeks, God knows how long it’s been going on!” he was shouting now. Again David muttered something inaudible.
“I don’t where I stop and you begin! If I look in a mirror now I don’t whether it’s you or me looking back!” and with that he turned and walked out of the club without waiting for a response, his night thoroughly ruined.
Over that weekend Chris deliberately didn’t leave the house. He couldn’t bear it if he saw David again somewhere other than college. He dreaded to think what other changes he would have made to himself – would he have stretched himself the extra five inches so he was as tall as Chris? Would he start wearing bigger shoes? Even cosmetic surgery wasn’t out of the question as far as he was concerned. He would just have to hope that Friday’s little rant was enough to make him back down a little, or at least make him see what he was doing.
Chris had never seen the importance of two people wearing the same outfit at the same time until it happened to him. Far from driving David off, they’d somehow managed to wear exactly the same clothes. From jeans to cap, David was now Chris’s “mini-me”.
So David was strenuously avoided for the rest of the day. Chris didn’t even go near the fountain – naturally some of the group came to look for him, which he knew they’d never do for David, but it didn’t comfort him much. He had to think of some sort of way to shrug off his clone and get his personality back. He had to come up with a plan. And that was the reason why his friends found him very distant that day.
When he got home he turned on the TV, and began to watch a programme about Japan.
“Here, no windows open above the ground floor”, the narrator was saying. And the plan came to him almost instantly. Of course he would need a few days off college, but he could pull it off pretty easily and he could afford to miss some lessons.
Next morning he grabbed an onion from the kitchen and set off to college. He told one of the gang to go somewhere else at break, and knew they would tell the others. Through first lesson his anticipation was at its maximum, he couldn’t wait to set the plan into action, while at the same time he was nervous that it would go wrong.
At break he went to the fountain early. He gouged into the onion with his nails, and rubbed his hands all round his eyes. The result was bloodshot, red eyes, and he was also crying from the onion. Simon turned up, and instinctively asked him what the matter was, even though Chris had been more than short with him the last few days.
And Chris told him. He told him that he was sick of the world, sick of his life. Sick of the people in the group who only want to be near him because he’s good looking. Sick of his family life and college pressure. He knew David would agree with him. Sooner or later.
“Yeah, I see what you mean…” he said. It was only a matter of time. And then Chris went for the grand finale – that he was going to commit suicide. David went quiet, as he knew he would, and then it was lesson time again.
On Friday, Chris was raring to get back to college after his week off. Not least because he would finally have scared David away from mimicking him. It was five o’clock, and he heard his Mum come home from work. A few minutes later she came into his room, crying. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.
“Tell you what?” he replied honestly. She flung a newspaper into his arms and turned away. He looked at it. The title read: “Obituaries”.
It was good but not great, sort of like Lord of the Rings would be like without the battle scenes. It was exceptionally well written as usual and reminded me of something that I cannot for the life or me remember the name of! It just seems a little hollow or something, I'm not quite sure how to word what it is or what it isn't. Still, I hope it wins mate.
It's well written and everything, but I expected a little more from the ending. It was kind of like one of those urban myths that everyone's read, only nothing exciting happens at the end.
But it is well written, granted.
But it is well written, granted.
Well, here it is, the original version of the story:
Mirror, signal, manoeuvre. The words were as fresh in Sara's head now as they were when her instructor said them for the very first time. He'd said those words many times since, leading up to each of her tests which were subsequently failed. Test number five had been different though, finally Sara managed to take her good driving skills which she showed in her lessons into the test, and pass. Now, for the very first time, she was taking a journey all on her own.
How her friends used to laugh at her, having to catch the bus to go shopping and relying on lifts from others to get the kids to parties, kids who had long since grown up and driven away. At least they were supportive of her though, and said that they were looking forward to the visits that would follow.
So far so good, thought Sara as she pulled out of the petrol station in her new Corsa, a model she had chosen because it was like the one she had learnt to drive in, but a few years older. She smoothly took the first exit from the roundabout, checking her mirrors as she made her way onto the duel-carriageway.
Confidently Sara moved through the gears and was pushing the speed limit. She even ventured into the overtaking lane when a caravan was going a little too slow for her to follow. As she checked her mirrors before pulling back into the left-hand lane she spotted a car behind her flashing it's lights. Must be in a hurry, thought Sara as she moved over. After a short moment Sara realised that the flashing car wasn't going past her. It had moved behind her, and was still flashing it's lights at her. Sara looked in her mirror at the driver, he was gesturing towards her, urging for her to pull over.
Sara saw a newspaper headline flash through her mind. ‘Local Lady Stabbed in Road Rage Incident', with the shocking subtitle ‘Killer Still on the Loose'. He wants me to pull over so that he can stab me! thought Sara. She thought back to her drive so far, did she cut anyone up? Perhaps at the roundabout, that's why this driver was so annoyed at her. She had, after all, failed two of her driving tests through her lack of observation.
As Sara put her foot down on the accelerator she heard the car behind blast it's horn at her. Again she glanced in the rear view mirror to see the driver waving his arms around, pointing to the left, urging her to pull in to the upcoming layby. For a moment Sara considered it, simply pull into the layby, and be stabbed to death. It wasn't like she would be missed. Her children had made lives for themselves, and the only man she had ever loved had also been driven away by her constant nagging. How Sara wished that Dave was with her now, a road rage killer surely wouldn't take on a couple, and Sara wouldn't even have to drive if Dave was still around. Sara remembered it all too well, with Dave, she wasn't allowed to do anything, learn to drive, get a job, even having a hobby wouldn't have been okayed by Dave. Sara was glad he had left, it had given her independence for the first time in her life, and there was no way that some road rage nutter was going to take it away from her.
Sara pulled into the layby and waited. Sure enough the car that had been flashing pulled in behind her. As soon as she saw the driver get out of his car she pulled back out of the layby again, just in front of the caravan she had earlier overtaken. Sara smiled to herself as she once more pulled away from the caravan, but this joy was short-lived. Less than a minute later she could see the flashing in her rear view mirror again. The car was still after, the road rage killer wouldn't be beaten so easily.
With the car behind flashing and blasting it's horn the whole way, Sara left the duel-carriageway at the junction, and headed into town with one target in mind, to head to the police station, and sound the horn until someone came out to save her.
As she looked in her mirror she wasn't at all surprised to see that he was still following her, and still pointing to the left. He was also holding something in his hand, something that Sara couldn't make out, but something she feared would be used to beat the life out of her if she stopped..
With increasing urgency she steered through the town, forgetting to signal, and too scared to check her mirror. As she approached the town centre she took the right turn that took her onto Oak street, home to the local constabulary. Sara abruptly applied her breaks when she realised her drastic error. This road was a dead-end. She walked it a thousand times, through the bollards towards the shops, and had never had to think about the fact it wasn't possible to drive down, until now, the time she had a vicious murderer on her back.
Sara got out of her car with speed, and started to run towards the police station. In a charity shop window she could see the reflection of her followers car had come to a stop.
"Hey, lady" shouted the man, but Sara kept on running.
"Hey, stop, your purse" he shouted. This time Sara did stop, and looked around slowly. As he approached her he could see the item he held in her hand was indeed her purse.
"You left this at the petrol station" he said, holding the purse out towards her.
"I thought you were going to kill me!" said Sara as her heart rate began to fall.
"What?" questioned the man
"I thought I'd cut you up, and you were a road rage killer or something!" said Sara, more than a little embarrassed.
"Just because I found your purse" replied the man "doesn't mean that I'm not"
Sara's jaw dropped and her heart began to race again, until she saw the man laughing at her.
"You drive carefully now, okay? I'm sorry if I scared you." He said as he began to walk away
"No, I'm sorry. Thank you" said Sara as she headed back to her car, embarrassed, and yet relieved. Her first solo road trip had certainly been eventful, but after all of that she was sure that her driving nerves had finally disappeared.
After a couple of redrafts, covering the paper in green pen (very handy) this is how it finished up:
Mirror, Signal, Manoeuvre
Mirror, signal, manoeuvre. The words were as fresh in Sara's head now as they were when her instructor said them at the beginning of her first lesson. He'd said those words many times since, leading up to each of her first four tests which were subsequently failed. Test number five had been different, despite being as nervous as ever, Sara drove well enough to pass.
How her few friends used to laugh at her, having to catch the bus to go shopping and relying on lifts from others to get her children to parties, children who had long since grown up and driven away. Now that she could drive they were more than happy to accompany her on her journeys, for which Sara was grateful, not feeling confident enough to drive alone. But this time there was nobody to go with her, and it was an appointment that she could not afford to miss.
So far so good, thought Sara as she pulled out of the petrol station in her new Corsa, a car she had chosen as it was an older, more affordable, model of the one she had learnt to drive in. She cautiously took the first exit from the roundabout, checking her mirrors as she made her way onto the duel-carriageway. The sound of the rain lashing down made her more nervous than she had been on her tests, at least then she wasn't alone.
Sara moved through the gears and was pushing towards the speed limit. She even ventured into the overtaking lane to pass a caravan, trundling towards it's destination. As she checked her mirrors before pulling back into the left-hand lane she noticed that a blue car was gaining ground on her. Must be in a hurry, thought Sara as she moved over. Moments later a flash of light in the rear view mirror caught her eye, and the sound of a car horn interrupted the familiar pattern of wiper swishes. Sara looked in her mirror and saw that the driver of the blue car was gesticulating at her, urging her to stop.
A newspaper headline flashed through Sara's mind. ‘Local Lady Stabbed in Road Rage Incident', with the shocking subheading ‘Killer Still on the Loose'. He wants me to pull over so that he can kill me! thought Sara. She tried to remember her drive so far, did she cut anyone up? Perhaps at the roundabout, that's why this driver was so annoyed at her. She had, after all, failed two of her driving tests through her lack of observation.
Sara's heart raced as she put her foot down on the accelerator. She heard the blast of a horn once more. Again she glanced in the rear view mirror to see the driver waving his arms around, pointing to the left, urging her to pull in to the upcoming lay-by. For a moment Sara considered it, simply pull into the lay-by to be stabbed to death. It wasn't as if she would be missed. Her children no longer needed her, and the only man she had ever loved had also been driven away by her constant nagging. How Sara wished that Dave was with her now, he would have been strong for her and Sara wouldn't even have to drive if Dave was still around. Sara remembered it all too well, with Dave she wasn't allowed to do anything, learn to drive, get a job, even having a hobby would have displeased Dave. Sara was glad that he had left, it had given her independence for the first time in her life, and there was no way that she was going to allow some raging lunatic to take it away from her.
Sara pulled into the lay-by and waited. Sure enough the blue car pulled in behind her. As soon as the driver got out she pulled off, driving back out of the lay-by, right in front of the caravan she had earlier overtaken. Sara smiled to herself as she once again left the caravan behind, but this joy was short-lived. Less than a minute later she could see flashes in the rear view mirror again. He was still after her, the road rage killer would not be beaten so easily.
Sara left the duel-carriageway at the next exit, with her pursuer flashing his lights and honking his horn the whole way. Sara followed signs for the town centre with one destination in mind, the police station. There she would sit and sound the horn until someone came out to save her. As she glanced in her mirror she was not surprised to see that he was still following her, still pointing to the left. He was also holding something in his hand, something that Sara couldn't quite make out, but something she feared would be used to beat the life out of her if she stopped.
With increasing urgency she steered through the town, too scared to check her mirror, forgetting to signal but manoeuvring through the busy market day traffic with the competence of a far more practised driver. As she approached the town centre she took the right turn onto Oak Street, home to the local constabulary. Sara abruptly applied her breaks when she realised her grave mistake. This road was a dead-end. She had walked it a thousand times, through the bollards towards the shops, never having given consideration to the fact that it wasn't possible to drive down, until now, the time that a deranged murderer had her trapped.
Sara got out of her car with a swiftness atypical of a woman of her years. As she ran towards the police station, the rain driving hard onto her, she saw the reflection of the blue car in a charity shop window.
Sara heard a car door slam, followed by a shout "Hey, Lady" but Sara kept running.
"Hey stop, your purse" he shouted again. Surprised by these words Sara stopped and turned around to see a purse very like her own in the advancing man's hand.
"You left this in the petrol station, and I just can't stand to see people lose things" he said with a smile as he handed the purse to Sara.
"I thought you were going to kill me!" said Sara as her heart rate began to fall.
"What?" said the man, shocked by the remark.
"I thought I'd cut you up at the roundabout, and you were a road rage killer or something!" said Sara, red with embarrassment.
"Just because I found your purse" replied the man "doesn't mean that I'm not".
Sara's jaw dropped and her heart began to race again, until she saw that the man was laughing at her.
"You drive carefully now, okay? I'm sorry if I scared you" he said as he began to walk away.
"No, I'm sorry. Thank you" said Sara as she headed back to her car, embarrassed, and yet relieved.
Her first solo road trip had certainly been eventful, but after all of that she was sure of one thing, independence was going to get easier. That and she'd never leave a petrol station without checking for her purse again.
Mirror, signal, manoeuvre. The words were as fresh in Sara's head now as they were when her instructor said them for the very first time. He'd said those words many times since, leading up to each of her tests which were subsequently failed. Test number five had been different though, finally Sara managed to take her good driving skills which she showed in her lessons into the test, and pass. Now, for the very first time, she was taking a journey all on her own.
How her friends used to laugh at her, having to catch the bus to go shopping and relying on lifts from others to get the kids to parties, kids who had long since grown up and driven away. At least they were supportive of her though, and said that they were looking forward to the visits that would follow.
So far so good, thought Sara as she pulled out of the petrol station in her new Corsa, a model she had chosen because it was like the one she had learnt to drive in, but a few years older. She smoothly took the first exit from the roundabout, checking her mirrors as she made her way onto the duel-carriageway.
Confidently Sara moved through the gears and was pushing the speed limit. She even ventured into the overtaking lane when a caravan was going a little too slow for her to follow. As she checked her mirrors before pulling back into the left-hand lane she spotted a car behind her flashing it's lights. Must be in a hurry, thought Sara as she moved over. After a short moment Sara realised that the flashing car wasn't going past her. It had moved behind her, and was still flashing it's lights at her. Sara looked in her mirror at the driver, he was gesturing towards her, urging for her to pull over.
Sara saw a newspaper headline flash through her mind. ‘Local Lady Stabbed in Road Rage Incident', with the shocking subtitle ‘Killer Still on the Loose'. He wants me to pull over so that he can stab me! thought Sara. She thought back to her drive so far, did she cut anyone up? Perhaps at the roundabout, that's why this driver was so annoyed at her. She had, after all, failed two of her driving tests through her lack of observation.
As Sara put her foot down on the accelerator she heard the car behind blast it's horn at her. Again she glanced in the rear view mirror to see the driver waving his arms around, pointing to the left, urging her to pull in to the upcoming layby. For a moment Sara considered it, simply pull into the layby, and be stabbed to death. It wasn't like she would be missed. Her children had made lives for themselves, and the only man she had ever loved had also been driven away by her constant nagging. How Sara wished that Dave was with her now, a road rage killer surely wouldn't take on a couple, and Sara wouldn't even have to drive if Dave was still around. Sara remembered it all too well, with Dave, she wasn't allowed to do anything, learn to drive, get a job, even having a hobby wouldn't have been okayed by Dave. Sara was glad he had left, it had given her independence for the first time in her life, and there was no way that some road rage nutter was going to take it away from her.
Sara pulled into the layby and waited. Sure enough the car that had been flashing pulled in behind her. As soon as she saw the driver get out of his car she pulled back out of the layby again, just in front of the caravan she had earlier overtaken. Sara smiled to herself as she once more pulled away from the caravan, but this joy was short-lived. Less than a minute later she could see the flashing in her rear view mirror again. The car was still after, the road rage killer wouldn't be beaten so easily.
With the car behind flashing and blasting it's horn the whole way, Sara left the duel-carriageway at the junction, and headed into town with one target in mind, to head to the police station, and sound the horn until someone came out to save her.
As she looked in her mirror she wasn't at all surprised to see that he was still following her, and still pointing to the left. He was also holding something in his hand, something that Sara couldn't make out, but something she feared would be used to beat the life out of her if she stopped..
With increasing urgency she steered through the town, forgetting to signal, and too scared to check her mirror. As she approached the town centre she took the right turn that took her onto Oak street, home to the local constabulary. Sara abruptly applied her breaks when she realised her drastic error. This road was a dead-end. She walked it a thousand times, through the bollards towards the shops, and had never had to think about the fact it wasn't possible to drive down, until now, the time she had a vicious murderer on her back.
Sara got out of her car with speed, and started to run towards the police station. In a charity shop window she could see the reflection of her followers car had come to a stop.
"Hey, lady" shouted the man, but Sara kept on running.
"Hey, stop, your purse" he shouted. This time Sara did stop, and looked around slowly. As he approached her he could see the item he held in her hand was indeed her purse.
"You left this at the petrol station" he said, holding the purse out towards her.
"I thought you were going to kill me!" said Sara as her heart rate began to fall.
"What?" questioned the man
"I thought I'd cut you up, and you were a road rage killer or something!" said Sara, more than a little embarrassed.
"Just because I found your purse" replied the man "doesn't mean that I'm not"
Sara's jaw dropped and her heart began to race again, until she saw the man laughing at her.
"You drive carefully now, okay? I'm sorry if I scared you." He said as he began to walk away
"No, I'm sorry. Thank you" said Sara as she headed back to her car, embarrassed, and yet relieved. Her first solo road trip had certainly been eventful, but after all of that she was sure that her driving nerves had finally disappeared.
After a couple of redrafts, covering the paper in green pen (very handy) this is how it finished up:
Mirror, Signal, Manoeuvre
Mirror, signal, manoeuvre. The words were as fresh in Sara's head now as they were when her instructor said them at the beginning of her first lesson. He'd said those words many times since, leading up to each of her first four tests which were subsequently failed. Test number five had been different, despite being as nervous as ever, Sara drove well enough to pass.
How her few friends used to laugh at her, having to catch the bus to go shopping and relying on lifts from others to get her children to parties, children who had long since grown up and driven away. Now that she could drive they were more than happy to accompany her on her journeys, for which Sara was grateful, not feeling confident enough to drive alone. But this time there was nobody to go with her, and it was an appointment that she could not afford to miss.
So far so good, thought Sara as she pulled out of the petrol station in her new Corsa, a car she had chosen as it was an older, more affordable, model of the one she had learnt to drive in. She cautiously took the first exit from the roundabout, checking her mirrors as she made her way onto the duel-carriageway. The sound of the rain lashing down made her more nervous than she had been on her tests, at least then she wasn't alone.
Sara moved through the gears and was pushing towards the speed limit. She even ventured into the overtaking lane to pass a caravan, trundling towards it's destination. As she checked her mirrors before pulling back into the left-hand lane she noticed that a blue car was gaining ground on her. Must be in a hurry, thought Sara as she moved over. Moments later a flash of light in the rear view mirror caught her eye, and the sound of a car horn interrupted the familiar pattern of wiper swishes. Sara looked in her mirror and saw that the driver of the blue car was gesticulating at her, urging her to stop.
A newspaper headline flashed through Sara's mind. ‘Local Lady Stabbed in Road Rage Incident', with the shocking subheading ‘Killer Still on the Loose'. He wants me to pull over so that he can kill me! thought Sara. She tried to remember her drive so far, did she cut anyone up? Perhaps at the roundabout, that's why this driver was so annoyed at her. She had, after all, failed two of her driving tests through her lack of observation.
Sara's heart raced as she put her foot down on the accelerator. She heard the blast of a horn once more. Again she glanced in the rear view mirror to see the driver waving his arms around, pointing to the left, urging her to pull in to the upcoming lay-by. For a moment Sara considered it, simply pull into the lay-by to be stabbed to death. It wasn't as if she would be missed. Her children no longer needed her, and the only man she had ever loved had also been driven away by her constant nagging. How Sara wished that Dave was with her now, he would have been strong for her and Sara wouldn't even have to drive if Dave was still around. Sara remembered it all too well, with Dave she wasn't allowed to do anything, learn to drive, get a job, even having a hobby would have displeased Dave. Sara was glad that he had left, it had given her independence for the first time in her life, and there was no way that she was going to allow some raging lunatic to take it away from her.
Sara pulled into the lay-by and waited. Sure enough the blue car pulled in behind her. As soon as the driver got out she pulled off, driving back out of the lay-by, right in front of the caravan she had earlier overtaken. Sara smiled to herself as she once again left the caravan behind, but this joy was short-lived. Less than a minute later she could see flashes in the rear view mirror again. He was still after her, the road rage killer would not be beaten so easily.
Sara left the duel-carriageway at the next exit, with her pursuer flashing his lights and honking his horn the whole way. Sara followed signs for the town centre with one destination in mind, the police station. There she would sit and sound the horn until someone came out to save her. As she glanced in her mirror she was not surprised to see that he was still following her, still pointing to the left. He was also holding something in his hand, something that Sara couldn't quite make out, but something she feared would be used to beat the life out of her if she stopped.
With increasing urgency she steered through the town, too scared to check her mirror, forgetting to signal but manoeuvring through the busy market day traffic with the competence of a far more practised driver. As she approached the town centre she took the right turn onto Oak Street, home to the local constabulary. Sara abruptly applied her breaks when she realised her grave mistake. This road was a dead-end. She had walked it a thousand times, through the bollards towards the shops, never having given consideration to the fact that it wasn't possible to drive down, until now, the time that a deranged murderer had her trapped.
Sara got out of her car with a swiftness atypical of a woman of her years. As she ran towards the police station, the rain driving hard onto her, she saw the reflection of the blue car in a charity shop window.
Sara heard a car door slam, followed by a shout "Hey, Lady" but Sara kept running.
"Hey stop, your purse" he shouted again. Surprised by these words Sara stopped and turned around to see a purse very like her own in the advancing man's hand.
"You left this in the petrol station, and I just can't stand to see people lose things" he said with a smile as he handed the purse to Sara.
"I thought you were going to kill me!" said Sara as her heart rate began to fall.
"What?" said the man, shocked by the remark.
"I thought I'd cut you up at the roundabout, and you were a road rage killer or something!" said Sara, red with embarrassment.
"Just because I found your purse" replied the man "doesn't mean that I'm not".
Sara's jaw dropped and her heart began to race again, until she saw that the man was laughing at her.
"You drive carefully now, okay? I'm sorry if I scared you" he said as he began to walk away.
"No, I'm sorry. Thank you" said Sara as she headed back to her car, embarrassed, and yet relieved.
Her first solo road trip had certainly been eventful, but after all of that she was sure of one thing, independence was going to get easier. That and she'd never leave a petrol station without checking for her purse again.
The top ones wil be displayed when the results are decided, I think. Maybe it's only the top three, I'm not sure.
Anyway, Sue from Writelink told me mine "needed more pruning". So I managed to get it down to 1199, and sent it off. My story didn't exactly turn out the way I wanted it to, but it's mainly due to the word count and I knew it wouldn't make much difference with a redraft. I know it's lazy but I hardly changed anything to my original and just sent it in.
I'll put it up here if people want to read it, but it's not much good. The start is particularly poor due to a lack of information and description (it's hard to add a lot more with one word).
Anyway, Sue from Writelink told me mine "needed more pruning". So I managed to get it down to 1199, and sent it off. My story didn't exactly turn out the way I wanted it to, but it's mainly due to the word count and I knew it wouldn't make much difference with a redraft. I know it's lazy but I hardly changed anything to my original and just sent it in.
I'll put it up here if people want to read it, but it's not much good. The start is particularly poor due to a lack of information and description (it's hard to add a lot more with one word).
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