I wrote the following piece of flash fiction on the day of the deadline. The remit asked for the demonstration of personalities using only dialogue. Free choice of subject.
Typed out on a laptop, I then also stored it on my StupidPhone via USB cable. (Said StupidPhone won't act as WiFi relay to and from the laptop, so it's necessary to have documents stored in the phone in order to send them.)
However, when I tried to submit the piece, I discovered that StupidPhone also won't attach any .doc documents that haven't been downloaded from the Net! .docs copied from the laptop can't be viewed, might just as well not be there. (Better if they're not there, in fact, as then they're not occupying space.)
The nearest village (with WiFi) is a 2-hour walk away (3 back home [UP the mountain])... and it was already dark (in winter). I ran to a neighbour to beg the use of his mobile... but its battery was dead.
And then I had another look at the remit. Max. 300 words. And I'd struggled to pull this one down to under 500...
Moral 1) Read the remit carefully... and remember it, even when off-line!
Moral 2) Don't wait until the last minute to start writing a story for a competition or anthology that you've been considering for 2 weeks.
Self Defence, Safe Passage, Insurance Policy...
“Come on, put it down. Somebody could get hurt!”
“Well yes, Archie, somebody could get hurt. That's the whole point. But this time, the somebody who gets hurt won't be me. If I put this down, we both know that I will get hurt, so I'm going to hang on to it. Self defence.”
“Now don't do anything rash. Can't we talk about this?”
“That's a pretty good joke. Excuse me if I don't laugh. Two people talking about something implies that they're also listening to each other. And you stopped listening to me a long time ago.
“But I'm thinking that now, as long as I've got this in my hand, you'll listen, alright. So listen good, Mr. Archibald Pearce, listen good.
“I'm leaving now, and Bob and Carole are coming with me. If you try to stop us, if you come after us, just remember what I'm holding in my hand. Our safe passage visa.”
“Going?! Just where are you going?”
“Ah, yes: another detail of my getaway plan. You'll never know. Don't come looking for us, I'm warning you, or I might have an 'accident' with your 'little baby' here. GOD, I hate this thing! I've always hated it. But it's going to help me now.”
“Come on, now. Hand it over before you do something silly.”
“Oh, my days of doing silly somethings are over. I was silly to ever get involved with you. Silly? I must have been certifiably insane. I've wised up. Oh, buddy! You've done a good job of showing me just how crazy I was.”
“You're being crazy now. You're certainly talking crazy. Let's sit down and talk. I'm sure that we can work this all out.”
“Forget it, Archie! Your smooth words aren't going to work this time. Your persuasive manner has lost its charm. I'll keep standing, thank you very much. You may sit down or stand, as you wish. But I advise you not to make any sudden moves or you know what will happen. And listen to me for once.
“We're getting out, the three of us. And staying out. You aren't going to harm us any more. We've given you your last chance and you've blown it. Look into my eyes. More to the point, look at my left eye. You did that, Archie. And the bruises on Carole's arm when she tried to defend me. It's not going to happen again. Never, you hear me?
“We're going now. I'm hanging on to this little monstrosity. It's my insurance policy. Once the divorce goes through and you've renounced custody, once I've been granted the restraining order... only then, Archie, only then do you get this back. Safe and sound: I can promise you that. I'll be over the moon to see the last of you and your bloody cut-crystal Senior Executives' Golf Tournament Trophy.”
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