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.

The prompts this month were as follows:

• Your story must include someone/something being caught.
• Your story must include the following words (plurals allowed): OBJECT, WOUND, BAND, ELABORATE.
• Your story’s final two words must be THE MOON (can be part of a larger sentence).

This one is still a little long, almost fifty words over the word limit at this stage. I’m not exactly sure where to trim it back, but I have the rest of the day to do just that. If you have any ideas or suggestions, I would love to hear from you.

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“If we’re caught, we’re fucked.”

“Now why the fuck would go and say a thing like that, at a time like this?”

“I was just saying…”

“I know what you were just saying. What I’m saying is, don’t say it. It didn’t need to be said. It doesn’t need to be said. And we’re not going to get fucking caught.”

Clarke observed the exchange with quiet detachment. She had been on enough jobs with these two to know that this was normal. Routine, almost. The rhythm of their conversation on par with that of a veteran rock band.

Jackson said that if they could pull this off, then it would be the last job they would ever need to take. They all had a good laugh at that. All three of them were lifers, in one way or another. The only one who was still trying to convince themselves otherwise was Baker, but truth was, they would keep taking jobs until they were dead, or they were caught. Clarke didn’t know which one she’d prefer.

“How much longer?”

“Three minutes.”

“Feels like forever.”

The plan was anything but complicated, it didn’t need to be. Clarke was a little disappointed about that. For all his faults, Jackson was a master at elaborate plans. It was pretty much the only thing she admired about him.

“Two minutes. Will you stop playing with it?”

Clarke looked over at Baker and saw that he was once again pawing at the wound on his left arm, a souvenir from Jackson for allowing his mind to wander and almost blowing their cover.

“It itches.”

“Deal with it.”

“One minute, you ready Clarke?”

She nodded. She knew that he knew she was the best at this.

“The moon sure is pretty tonight.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“I’m just saying, it’s good to appreciate these things.”

Clarke smiled. Baker’s sense of timing was impeccable, though unintentionally so. It was fortunate that he too, despite a propensity towards distraction, was the best at what he did.

“Here we go.”

Clarke opened the door and one-by-one they stepped out into the cool night air. It was darker, much darker than they were expecting, she couldn’t see a thing. Not even the full moon above cast enough light to see what was what.

“Somethings not right. Somethings not fucking right!”

The darkness lasted just a second before blindingly bright light filled every corner of her vision. It was disorienting, and it was painful

“What’s happening? Jackson, what the fuck is going on?”

“We’re fucked, kid. We’re proper fucked.”

The next few moments were a blur. When Clarke regained her vision, she saw that they were surrounded. There must have been at least a dozen of them. Jackson reacted as she knew he would. She didn’t hear the gunshot, but the light in his eyes disappeared before his head hit the concrete.

Baker didn’t move. She knew which option he had chosen. She made her choice as well, but she made it too late. She was on flat on her stomach, heavy knee in her back, handcuffed and being read her rights before she had a chance to react. She would not object.

Baker looked at her.

“Do you think we’ll ever see it again?”

“See what?”

“The moon.”