Another month, another attempt at the Australian Writers’ Centre’s Furious Fiction Competition. 500 words in 55 hours for a $500 prize.
This month the criteria were
- Your story must take place at either WEDDING or a FUNERAL.
- Your story must include something being cut.
- Your story must include the words “UNDER”, “OVER” and “BETWEEN”.
If you have been following my stories over the last few months, you’ll know I have centred them around Frankie the Flamboyant Dresser. Frankie’s story was not suited to a wedding or a funeral, so I have branched out this month with a completely different story line.
I have Frankie’s next moves planned, so I will wait till next month’s Furious Fiction competition to see if I can make that happen.
Somewhere between the speeches and the cake being cut, he told her it was over.
The blood drained from her face. Her rouged cheeks and overly red lips making her look like a zombie bride. Her thoughts whirred through her brain but they were trapped under a blanket of ugly rage.
“The drinks package hasn’t even expired and you’re telling me it’s all over?”
She glared, he slumped.
“Why didn’t you tell me yesterday? Why didn’t you tell me last week? Was it all for nothing?”
“I didn’t know!” he spluttered, “I’m sorry! It’s not really my fault, Rebecca.”
She smiled ferociously like a lion might smile at a gazelle. He turned away, wiping a tear from his eye realising too late it definitely was a case of like mother, like daughter.
The echoing, too loud voice of the DJ pierced their private angry moment, “And NOW let’s welcome the happy couple to the dance floor for their first dance as Mr and Mrs McGRATH!”
Rebecca hitched up her skirts and grabbed his wrist, “Listen, pal, we’re going to put on such a show that no-one will suspect anything. You’ll say nothing until tomorrow, do you hear me? Nothing! I am not going to have my mum in tears over this now! Not after all she’s been through! And if you thought I was planning on using your name, you’ve got another thing coming!”
The instant they were on the rickety parquetry squares the reception joint called a dance floor, she melted into his arms in such a deceptive display of loving-kindness, the whole room was fooled.
“Such a lovely couple!” they cooed.
Rebecca’s mum Evie, did cry. She cried tears of joy for her lovely daughter and new son-in-law as they swang so effortlessly in synchronised perfection. The best man and chief bridesmaid, the only ones to join them; sensed the tension.
It had been worth everything to see them here so happy!
The waiter chatted as he cleared the table. “You must be a bit annoyed Evie?”
“No, why? They look so happy.”
“I thought you’d be disappointed. You had such a lovely wedding planned”
“But it is lovely.”
“Yes, but didn’t you hear? It’s all over.”
“Over?” Evie stuttered, the bottom falling from her stomach like she’d been punched.
“Yes, they lifted the restrictions this morning. The Corona rules have changed again. As from today you could have had fifty people, not just five! Ahh well,” said the waiter whimsically “At least you’ve saved a truckload of money!”
Now the blood drained from Evie’s face. The battle over who was going to come to the wedding had been fierce. So fierce, in fact, she had regrettably but quite literally, stabbed her ex-husband in the back. He was now cooling his heels in her freezer.
“Look on the bright side,” she thought “at least we can have one hundred people at his funeral!”