FURIOUS Fiction…

Each month, the Australian Writers Centre runs a Furious Fiction competition; 55 hours to write a 500 word story that must contain certain words or themes. My ability to only get work done when there is a hard deadline looming, is a match made in heaven for the  short and sharp concentration burst needed to get a story plotted, written, refined and submitted within a 55 hour window.

So, my 2020 New Years resolution was to enter a story each month, which I have successfully done (except for April. That April weekend I was in bed with what I was absolutely, positively sure was a case of Coronavirus. It wasn’t Coronavirus. It was a headache). I’ve been less successful, however, at wining a Furious Fiction competition. Ugh. And each month, when the email arrives in my inbox heralding the winner (not me), it’s accompanied with copy banging on about how  they received a record breaking number of entries, compared to the month prior.  I’m sure that’s included as a pep-talk of sorts, but really, it just makes my anxiety levels go up. ‘Stop bloody entering the competition, all you other writers!’ I want to shout. In fact, I did shout that at my computer screen today. I hope all those other writers heard me.

It is the same with writing kids picture books, I guess. I keep reading about how it is such a competitive market (there go my anxiety levels again), and how you will receive far more rejections, than acceptances. Not great for someone who likes action and success immediately. But, like the Furious Fiction entries, I’ll just keep on keeping-on, working at my writing and doggedly submitting stories, hoping that THIS one is a winner.

 

The May Furious Fiction submission was one that: a) had to start with the word ‘Five’; b) include something being replaced; and c) include the phrase ‘a/the silver lining’. So here it is:

 

MISSION IMPROBABLE

Five steps.

Five perilous steps, before I can reach Captain Rogers.

‘I think we should abort the mission,’ whispers Mack, checking nervously over his shoulder, ‘it’s too risky.’

‘No, they’re all distracted,’ I shoot back, ‘now is the best time.’

‘I really think we should abort,’ Mack whispers again.

I don’t know why I brought Mack on this mission. He only just passed basic training. But when Jordan was requisitioned back home before we could execute the plan, I had to replace him. I couldn’t do this by myself. Mack was my only other option, besides Rofer the Army Dog.

I wish now I had chosen Rofer.

‘Just keep a look-out for movement behind enemy lines and keep quiet,’ I hiss back at Mack.

From my vantage point I had a clear line of sight into the room Captain Rogers was being held. This mission was to liberate him.

My eyes scanned for booby traps between me and Cap. This wasn’t going to be easy. His kidnapper is an Evil Genius.

Small blocks, like medieval caltrops, litter the floor. Step on one of these, and you’d be rendered paralysed from the pain for quite a while.

Not to mention the three figures sitting around the same table Cap was being held at against his will. Their eyes, focussed unblinkingly on him. Two females, one male. All had a silver lining of ink etched over their lips. The favourite mark of the Evil Genius. They didn’t look too smart though, with their big hair and irrational uniforms of skimpy dresses, high heels and Bermuda shorts. They should be easy enough to get past.

‘Tom,’ whispers Mack, as I extend my foot to take that first step.

‘I said to be quiet, Mack!’ I shoot back, waving my hand behind me to shoosh him up.

‘But Tom, there’s movement behind enemy lines, and you told me to tell you when there was movem…’ Mack’s last words were drowned out by the hysterical voice of the Evil Genius herself.

‘MUUUUUUUMMMM! Tom is in my room again! He’s trying to steal Prince Handsome-Pants from his double date with Vet Barbie, Dreamtopia Barbie and Fashionista Ken! He’s ruining everything.’

I turn to see Mum following the Evil Genius down the hallway. Mack has disappeared from view. Typical.

‘His name is NOT Prince Handsome-Pants,’ I shout as I make a grab for my action figure. ‘His name is Captain Steve Rogers or Cap – if you know him well enough. Anyway, she started it by taking him from my room without asking!’

‘Just let your sister play with your doll for a bit longer please, Tom,’ says Mum.

I suspect Mum is on the Evil Genius’ payroll.

‘He’s not a doll! He’s Captain America, the first superhuman and Avenger.’

‘Well, he looks like he’s having a wonderful time on his date,’ smiles Mum, as the Evil Genius holds her silver marker over Cap’s mouth.

 

Talk about a failed mission. I should have chosen Rofer.