Hi to my lovely followers! The above link is to my latest story. I’m sharing it again because it will most likely be the last 100 word story I’ll post for a while! On February 5th, I start my writing course in London with the Curtis Brown agency, so writing my novel is going to take up the majority of my time. That said, I will miss posting on this blog so there might be the occasional 100 worder! I also might post some updates on the novel writing process and the course and what they teach etc, in case anyone’s interested, and I’ll tag these under ‘Personal Posts’ or perhaps a new page. Thanks to my awesome followers for all your great feedback on my stories! See ya soon!
The crocodile looked gloomily out at the river, his stomach rumbling. Rick swooped down and sat on the crocodile’s head.
“Bruce, I know what you’re doing,” said Rick, “and you’re not fat! Starving yourself will only make it worse.” He hopped down to sit on Bruce’s jutted-out lip. “So what if you overdid it at Christmas, we all do!” Bruce stayed silent. Rick rolled his eyes and said, “Look, I – ”
In a move that surprised even Bruce, he opened his jaws and clamped down on Rick, chewing him with vigour. He sighed through mouthfuls. His thighs would pay for this.
“Okay, Alfie, if you’d just like to sit down. Glasses off.”
Alfie was at his opticians. ‘His’, as in he lived nearby and it was where his girlfriend worked. Ex-girlfriend, now. Zoe placed the absurdly thick-rimmed ‘tester’ glasses on Alfie’s nose, unhappily.
“Read out the letters,” she said.
“Why haven’t you responded to my texts?” he asked. She ignored him, popped a new lens into the frames and said, “Top row.”
“B… E-T-R-A-Y-E-D,” said Alfie, in a witty but poignant way. He turned to Zoe. The funny glasses made his eyes blur, but he could’ve sworn he saw her crying.
Ralph awoke to see a girl’s looming face.
“You poor thing!” she said, her arms outstretched. He pushed her away.
“I can help you!” the girl said, hurt. “I’ve got food. And a bath. You smell a bit.”
Ralph snorted and turned away, shivering. It was mid-January. He hadn’t even made it one month. Looking back, were there things he could’ve done differently? Behaved a little better? Perhaps he was always destined to end up on a blanket in an alleyway. Rolling her eyes, the girl picked him up.
“Put me down!” Ralph wanted to shriek. Instead, he just barked.
The other cruise passengers stared when Marilyn walked past with a suited-up mannequin in tow.
“Why’s she got that thing?” whispered an elderly woman to her friend.
“That Filipino gentleman from last night told me that apparently her husband died just before the cruise and she’s evidently lost her marbles.”
“I’m surprised they let her bring it.”
“It’s P&O, June. She paid for a 2 person holiday.”
Across the room, Marilyn tucked a napkin into the mannequin’s collar and topped up his glass. If you listened carefully enough, you could just about hear her tell him they were serving beef tonight.
A few weeks ago, I entered the ITV/Curtis Brown literary competition ‘Be A Best Seller’. I had to send in 2,500-3,000 words of a novel or novel-in-progress, so I sent in the beginning of When We Get There, a novel I wrote 20,000 words of during my third year of university for one of my modules. After a while, I gave up hope of getting anywhere in the competition – I even got the dates mixed up for when we were supposed to hear anything, and so moved on and thought nothing of it. But then on Friday 21st November, I got a call from ITV (a TV channel in Britain, for any non-UK readers) and was told I was a finalist! I was invited to go to the studios that coming Monday for a ‘chat’ on their mid-morning show, ‘This Morning’. Unfortunately, the train broke down 5 minutes out of Paddington Station so we had to divert our route, and I missed my chance to go on the sofa with the presenters and talk about the novel. Fortunately, I had no idea I was even meant to be on TV, so I was pretty chilled out, all things considering! All week the finalists went to the studios to talk about their writing, when it culminated on Thursday 27th and the winner, out of us 5, was announced on air. The finalists all met each other and spent a few hours chatting before the show, getting to know each other, having our hair and make-up done etc. Then we had to go into the studio for the filming and… I won! I was so shocked, I said “Oh my God” about 17 times and cried (thankfully when the cameras turned off!). The judges were the novelist Marian Keyes, the actress Caroline Quentin and the literary agent Jonny Geller, and they were all really lovely, so that was nice! The Curtis Brown agency itself is really prestigious and they have a lot of successful people on their books – writers, actors, performers etc! For the prize itself, I’ve won a free place on Curtis Brown’s 6 month writing course in London, and representation by the agency for my novel. So… I have an agent! I’M SO HAPPY!!! It’s been a week since it happened and it still doesn’t feel real!
As a paranoid hypochondriac, Jedd Wilkes wasn’t having any of this ‘Ebola’ nonsense. He took 2 weeks’ holiday leave and barricaded himself in his room, his windows tightly shut. Unfortunately, he had failed to account for the nasty patch of toxic Stachybotrys chartarum mould behind his bed. After 9 sweaty days with no fresh air, paramedics carted him to hospital as he gagged, his throat closing.
“Got no room anywhere else, sorry. You’ll be on Ward C,” said the medic.
“Ward C?” he croaked.
“Yeah. Ebola patients, mostly.”
Jedd sighed. If his lungs weren’t collapsing, he’d have found the energy to laugh.
After the break-up, Danny found himself listening to Seal and taking long walks. One night, his flatmate was waiting for him when he arrived home.
“We need to talk,” said Ross.
“I’ll be okay soon,” Danny promised.
“It’s just… Lily was my girlfriend, mate.”
Danny sighed. “I – I know that, but… she worked at Domino’s. She got us so much free food, y’know?”
Ross nodded, his bottom lip wobbling.
“Come here, Dan.”
They embraced as they sobbed, pizza-less and mourning.
“I mean, you’d expect some break-up garlic bread, surely?” Danny wailed.
Ross rubbed his back.
“I know, mate. I know.”
Shannon had been sat on the train for 40 minutes, the only passenger. It stopped and started, moving erratically as though it was breaking down. She walked through the train but found no conductor. The driver’s door was locked, and the engine screamed and stifled her knocking. She found a helpline number and dialled it, explaining everything.
“And what train is it?”
“Brighton to London. The 11.05.”
The man on the phone was silent.
“Hello?” Shannon called.
“Miss? Miss? That train was cancelled. Its driver has gone home.”
The engine sputtered out as the train ground slowly to a stop.
When Marianne arrived with a ‘pop’ in a grey room, she was surprised to see a bored-looking man already sat on a bench.
“The last thing I remember is a bus coming closer!” she blurted out.
“You’re in limbo,” said the man, gloomily. “But due to a technical fault, we’re stuck here indefinitely. I’ve been here 3 days.”
Marianne sat down.
“I’m a little offended I didn’t go straight into Heaven,” she remarked.
“No shit, lady. I’m missing a party in Hell for this. Rick, by the way,” he said, holding out his hand. She shook it and sighed.