It’s been ages since I posted a piece of fiction on my blog, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been writing. I have. I’ve been working on several pieces for various competitions and journals and am thrilled to say that I have won the current Flash500 flash fiction competition. It’s my biggest win to date and I am pretty pleased with myself. You may (if you wish) read ‘Dandelion Breeze’ over at the Flash500 site.
The best thing about receiving recognition like this for my efforts is that it has made me want to write even more, so to get back in the swing of things after an evening spent celebrating I set myself a quick writing challenge: I sat down and wrote out the first phrase to come into my mind. This turned out to be ” just the idea of it makes me feel like throwing up” (and that has nothing whatsoever to do with the celebratory drink (s) last night). I then used it as the starting point for some flash fiction. I hope you think it is worthy of a place in #fridayflash this week.
Now, just the idea of it makes me feel like throwing up, but back then I can’t have given it more than a second thought. I might even have pretended it was teenage bravado; the word was in our vocabulary having just done that essay on ‘Bravado in Romeo and Juliet’. Or was that another one you never finished?
‘Kiss Paula Dobson on the mouth. With tongues.’ That was the dare you set me. But it’s not her lips or tongue I remember; it’s what was left of her lunch hanging from the front of her train track braces.
I knew what you were up to. I was your proxy; I always was. You dared me to do all the things you couldn’t face up to yourself: nick a sherbet dib-dab from the corner shop; piss on Mrs Phillips’s roses; snog Paula Dobson. They probably call it transposed desire or something. I haven’t got that far with my therapist yet.
You didn’t give me any more dares after that. Was it because I was looking at you as I was kissing her? You can call that transposed desire if you like, Simon.
I can still taste it by the way; they always gave us Irish stew on a Wednesday.
© flyingscribbler 2012