FURIOUS FICTION

At the beginning of last year, March 2019, I began entering stories into the Australian Writers’ Centre Furious Fiction competition.

It’s a fun little monthly challenge whereby you have 55 hours to write a 500 word story that could ultimately net you $500. The only caveat is that each month they provide you with a set of non-negotiable story prompts which much be utilised in your piece of prose. The prompts change every month, some more challenging than others, but the format remains the same otherwise.

Unfortunately, I didn’t manage to enter this story into the competition in time as I was in the middle of a holiday in the U.S.A. I decided to finish the story regardless, and here is the result.

The prompts for this story were as follows:

• Your story must take place on a TRAIN.
• Your story must include something FROZEN.
• Your story must include three 3-word sentences in a row.

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Your attention is drawn away from the window, as the door to the carriage slides open and an attractive young woman in pale blue jeans and a light pink cardigan enters. You had requested a private carriage for the duration of the trip but at this exact moment, struck stupid by the woman’s casual beauty, you certainly aren’t complaining.

The woman is of average height with light brown hair, green eyes and an aura of optimism. Your immediate reaction was to think of her as a young woman, but it is the way that she carries herself, nothing to do with her features, that gives the impression of youth. In her arms she is holding a large brown overcoat, appropriate for the weather outside, if not the train journey, and carrying a reusable plastic carrier bag. She puts both down on the seat opposite yours before closing the carriage door. You are trying not to stare as she performs all these actions, your head remaining lowered but your eyes constantly shifting from the screen to this girl and back again. Her last act before taking her seat is to remove her small, black, faux-leather backpack and place that too on the seat beside her. You are, needless to say, completely entranced.

“Oh boy, it’s cold out there,” she exclaims, though you’re unsure of whether the comment is directed at you.

You glance up and offer a weak smile, cautious not to make any assumptions. She catches your eye anyway and returns the smile. Your heart skips a beat.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “I didn’t mean to disturb you.

“It’s okay,” you reply, “It is very chilly outside.”

This time you give her a proper smile and again she returns it immediately, holding our gaze for a bit longer than you are used to from complete strangers. A warmth fills your entire body.

She introduces herself and you follow suite and before you know it you are in the middle of an easy conversation which quickly moves beyond the standard superficial nonsense one would expect in this sort of situation but never feels anything less than comfortable. You discuss your respective occupations and hobbies, your favourite books, films and musical artists. You discuss your families, your childhoods and, each of you fully appreciating the risk of embarrassment, your current romantic relationships. You are single. She is not. A crushing blow.

You manage to move past this subject with an uncommon lightness and the conversation continues for another hour, possible two. There is much humour in your exchanges and, speaking for yourself at least, you are amazed at the instant rapport the two of you have been able to establish. You find yourself falling for this person, despite the already established state of play and your heart once again reacts noticeably.

An announcement is made over the train’s public announcement system, the woman grabs her coat.

“Well, this is me,” she announces.

Before you know it, you are left alone in the carriage once again. A faint hint of the woman’s perfume lingers momentarily before it too disappears. Your gaze returns to the window and the frozen landscape on the other side.