'THEMED' FLASH FICTION 2014 WITH MAGGIE COBBETT
WINNING STORIES AND JUDGE'S REPORT
First prize winner - Just desserts by John M Parker
The most prestigious dinner of the year and I was on the top table, sandwiched between our rather rotund mayor and the bulky president of our local rotary club. It was the culmination of a day that had been perfect. They say the sun shines on the righteous. Well it had certainly shone today.
After grace, the mayor turned to congratulate me. ‘We’ve never had a more successful fayre,’ he declared. ‘How did you persuade such an eminent personage to open the event, I mean we’ve never seen royalty here before? And parachuting in all five of ‘Take That’, amazing!’ Our president concurred and sipped his third glass of wine.
I glowed with pride but erected a facsimile of humility, pointing, perhaps a little too limply, to my wife’s contribution.
Then the soup appeared: butternut squash with a pinch of paprika, my favourite. Periodically someone glanced in my direction and I knew people were talking about me. Then the smiles from our waitress – well! A sense of adulation welled up, inflating my ego.
Of course there was my after dinner speech to worry about. But I had a reliable script writer, my wife, so why panic?
The fish course of steamed sea bream was succulent and accompanied by one the best white wines I’ve ever tasted. I knew my wife would have really enjoyed it. If she’d been invited.
After the main course of Welsh lamb, we were served a soufflé, prepared to perfection. I downed the last drops of the red wine that had accompanied the lamb and sipped some H2O so I could appreciate fully this pinnacle of culinary art. And of course the ‘pudding wine’ served so elegantly by my waitress, an attractive, nubile young lady with such come-hither eyes.
I considered whether she or the soufflé would be the highlight of the evening. Her mobile number, jotted on the corner of a serviette and slipped pointedly under my plate, left little doubt. They say success is like a babe magnet although I knew, often to my cost, that I still had my good looks.
After the cheese and port, she disappeared but later returned with the After Eights. She had enjoyed my speech; her compliments tickled my ear in short, warm breaths, piercing like Cupid’s arrows. I thought the timing on my jokes was slightly awry; I must say something to the little lady about that when I see her.
We left the event together; oh the wonder of texts. My waitress suggested a nightcap at her flat. In the taxi she explained that her live-in brother had a date and was unlikely to be back. But as we stepped through the front door we heard voices. We both realised that her brother had returned early.
‘Hey, sis, I thought you were giving me an hour or two alone.’
My expectations slowly expired, like a collapsing soufflé. Then I saw the serpent who was coiled around him. My obedient, worshipping, little wife.
Judge's report by Maggie Cobbett
I chose Just Desserts as the winner because the smug narrator is so well drawn. Preening himself throughout the grand dinner and happy to take all the credit for his wife's hard work while at the same time planning to betray her, this is a man whose comeuppance is long overdue and all the more satisfying for that. The way his thoughts are interwoven with the various courses served throughout the evening is very clever.
Second prize winner - The Truth Shall Set You Free by Andrew Campbell-Kearsey
Simon was becoming rather a bore to his friends. ‘Just tell her!’ was the consensus of opinion of those with whom he shared the weight of his secret. As he travelled home by train, his resolve weakened slightly with every mile. His rational self made an effective case. Surely he should be honest with his family and most of all, his mother. Coming out at been a total non-issue at University. Secretly, part of him was disappointed that his announcement had caused so little interest. For a while, he was ‘Gay Simon’. But his temporary notoriety soon passed.
Over the short walk from the railway station to his childhood home he rehearsed his lines. He had been convinced by friends to tell his mother about his sexuality the first day of the long summer vacation.
There was no response when he shouted out, ‘I’m home!’ He placed his bags down in the hallway and walked through to the kitchen. He could see his mother out in the garden. He knew better than to interrupt her when she had a pair of secateurs in her hand. He unpacked his bags and loaded up the washing-machine. He braced himself and went out to confront her. She’d finished pruning and was bagging up the severed tendrils of an over-reaching clematis.
There was the approximation of a hug between them. Simon’s family had never engaged in physical displays of affection. ‘Good to have you back, Simon. There’s some soup on the stove. Help yourself. I’m out tonight – wretched governors’ meeting. I’m
sure you can look after yourself. Then tomorrow we can sit down and decide what you’re going to do this Summer. We can’t have you frittering time away. Before we even know it, it’ll be September and you’ll be back to University.’
Simon had forgotten what a conversational juggernaut his mother could be. He couldn’t afford to wait for her to draw breath so he butted in.
‘There’s something I have to tell you, Mum’
‘Well, can’t it wait? I have to get these refuse sacks down to the dump before they close and –.’
‘No it can’t.’ They were equally surprised at his assertiveness.
After a pause, his mother attempted to seize the initiative. ‘Well, whatever, it is, let’s discuss it indoors.’
Simon followed his mother into the house and after making two mugs of tea, they faced each other at the kitchen table. His mother began, ‘Don’t tell me, you’ve gone and got some girl pregnant.’
Simon smiled. In a calm voice he told her the truth. He felt the burden lifted. There was no response from his mother.
With equal calm, she took a deep breath and spoke. ‘When I return this evening, I expect there to be no trace of you in this house. I gave birth to conjoined twins. Now I wish that you had been the one to die.’
Simon hadn’t expected these words from the village’s first female vicar.
Judge's report by Maggie Cobbett
The main character of The Truth Shall Set You Free attracted my sympathy from the beginning. Having finally plucked up the courage to confide in his busy and undemonstrative mother, his hopes are dashed and no reader could fail to share his shock and disappointment at the manner of the rejection.
WINNING STORIES AND JUDGE'S REPORT
First prize winner - Just desserts by John M Parker
The most prestigious dinner of the year and I was on the top table, sandwiched between our rather rotund mayor and the bulky president of our local rotary club. It was the culmination of a day that had been perfect. They say the sun shines on the righteous. Well it had certainly shone today.
After grace, the mayor turned to congratulate me. ‘We’ve never had a more successful fayre,’ he declared. ‘How did you persuade such an eminent personage to open the event, I mean we’ve never seen royalty here before? And parachuting in all five of ‘Take That’, amazing!’ Our president concurred and sipped his third glass of wine.
I glowed with pride but erected a facsimile of humility, pointing, perhaps a little too limply, to my wife’s contribution.
Then the soup appeared: butternut squash with a pinch of paprika, my favourite. Periodically someone glanced in my direction and I knew people were talking about me. Then the smiles from our waitress – well! A sense of adulation welled up, inflating my ego.
Of course there was my after dinner speech to worry about. But I had a reliable script writer, my wife, so why panic?
The fish course of steamed sea bream was succulent and accompanied by one the best white wines I’ve ever tasted. I knew my wife would have really enjoyed it. If she’d been invited.
After the main course of Welsh lamb, we were served a soufflé, prepared to perfection. I downed the last drops of the red wine that had accompanied the lamb and sipped some H2O so I could appreciate fully this pinnacle of culinary art. And of course the ‘pudding wine’ served so elegantly by my waitress, an attractive, nubile young lady with such come-hither eyes.
I considered whether she or the soufflé would be the highlight of the evening. Her mobile number, jotted on the corner of a serviette and slipped pointedly under my plate, left little doubt. They say success is like a babe magnet although I knew, often to my cost, that I still had my good looks.
After the cheese and port, she disappeared but later returned with the After Eights. She had enjoyed my speech; her compliments tickled my ear in short, warm breaths, piercing like Cupid’s arrows. I thought the timing on my jokes was slightly awry; I must say something to the little lady about that when I see her.
We left the event together; oh the wonder of texts. My waitress suggested a nightcap at her flat. In the taxi she explained that her live-in brother had a date and was unlikely to be back. But as we stepped through the front door we heard voices. We both realised that her brother had returned early.
‘Hey, sis, I thought you were giving me an hour or two alone.’
My expectations slowly expired, like a collapsing soufflé. Then I saw the serpent who was coiled around him. My obedient, worshipping, little wife.
Judge's report by Maggie Cobbett
I chose Just Desserts as the winner because the smug narrator is so well drawn. Preening himself throughout the grand dinner and happy to take all the credit for his wife's hard work while at the same time planning to betray her, this is a man whose comeuppance is long overdue and all the more satisfying for that. The way his thoughts are interwoven with the various courses served throughout the evening is very clever.
Second prize winner - The Truth Shall Set You Free by Andrew Campbell-Kearsey
Simon was becoming rather a bore to his friends. ‘Just tell her!’ was the consensus of opinion of those with whom he shared the weight of his secret. As he travelled home by train, his resolve weakened slightly with every mile. His rational self made an effective case. Surely he should be honest with his family and most of all, his mother. Coming out at been a total non-issue at University. Secretly, part of him was disappointed that his announcement had caused so little interest. For a while, he was ‘Gay Simon’. But his temporary notoriety soon passed.
Over the short walk from the railway station to his childhood home he rehearsed his lines. He had been convinced by friends to tell his mother about his sexuality the first day of the long summer vacation.
There was no response when he shouted out, ‘I’m home!’ He placed his bags down in the hallway and walked through to the kitchen. He could see his mother out in the garden. He knew better than to interrupt her when she had a pair of secateurs in her hand. He unpacked his bags and loaded up the washing-machine. He braced himself and went out to confront her. She’d finished pruning and was bagging up the severed tendrils of an over-reaching clematis.
There was the approximation of a hug between them. Simon’s family had never engaged in physical displays of affection. ‘Good to have you back, Simon. There’s some soup on the stove. Help yourself. I’m out tonight – wretched governors’ meeting. I’m
sure you can look after yourself. Then tomorrow we can sit down and decide what you’re going to do this Summer. We can’t have you frittering time away. Before we even know it, it’ll be September and you’ll be back to University.’
Simon had forgotten what a conversational juggernaut his mother could be. He couldn’t afford to wait for her to draw breath so he butted in.
‘There’s something I have to tell you, Mum’
‘Well, can’t it wait? I have to get these refuse sacks down to the dump before they close and –.’
‘No it can’t.’ They were equally surprised at his assertiveness.
After a pause, his mother attempted to seize the initiative. ‘Well, whatever, it is, let’s discuss it indoors.’
Simon followed his mother into the house and after making two mugs of tea, they faced each other at the kitchen table. His mother began, ‘Don’t tell me, you’ve gone and got some girl pregnant.’
Simon smiled. In a calm voice he told her the truth. He felt the burden lifted. There was no response from his mother.
With equal calm, she took a deep breath and spoke. ‘When I return this evening, I expect there to be no trace of you in this house. I gave birth to conjoined twins. Now I wish that you had been the one to die.’
Simon hadn’t expected these words from the village’s first female vicar.
Judge's report by Maggie Cobbett
The main character of The Truth Shall Set You Free attracted my sympathy from the beginning. Having finally plucked up the courage to confide in his busy and undemonstrative mother, his hopes are dashed and no reader could fail to share his shock and disappointment at the manner of the rejection.
