As promised, here are the winning entries of our recent flash fiction competition on the theme of ‘Colour’.
First Place:
Blue Devils and Pink Elephants by Lynda Turner
Sat before his illuminated mirror, Simon wondered how many more lines would appear on his face. Silently he remembered the jokes he’d made to ageing actors about ladling foundation on with a trowel. Now it was his turn.
He lent forwards, screwed up his dark brown eyes and tried to focus on his pocked flesh. Close up is face appeared port stained and pitied. He prodded the large, puffy bags under his eyes. “Too much booze,” he mouthed to his reflection.
He cupped his red face in his chubby hands. “Yer too fat,” he snarled, “too bloody fat!”
Instantly he recalled those had been her words on that dreadful day when she had grabbed her suitcase and bounced out of their trailer. He ran after her, calling her name, screaming after her…begging words. No use. Lollie had finally gone. Their colourful partnership was over. They’d made a good make-up team, worked on award winning films, until…he grabbed the whisky bottle, unscrewed the top and took a good swig of the golden liquid.
His hand became steadier as he applied the white base liberally over his face. Face paint! That’s what they called it. But they aren’t professionals. Nominated twice for Best Make-up Artist of the Year Award. Lollie had wanted him then. The contracts paid well and she shared in the glory. No one wanted to share his life now.
“Yer on in Five.”
“O.K.”
Blue to his eyes, red to his cheeks and he outlined his grotesque features in black An orange wig covered his baldness, baggy red trousers and voluminous yellow jacket concealed his bulk. He no longer recognised himself. He hobbled to the door, crossed the field and waddled into the show tent.
The music struck up. Bring on the clowns.
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Judge comments: This has a good opening – you learn something about the protagonist’s physical and mental state in the first sentence. The author leads you through his life story, revealing his self-disgust, his wish for disguise. This is a story which shows not tells.
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Second Place:
No White Flag by David Smith
As a child, that jumble of colours remained a jumble of colours no matter how much I squinted at them. Later, a careers advisor said being colour blind meant I couldn’t be an electrician, train driver, pharmacist or policeman. So? Being an actuary has worked out fine for me. My business is booming.
Unlike my marriage to Di.
After the lengthy stalemate of a war of attrition, it was now fixed bayonets, hand to hand combat with no white flag in sight. Being colour blind was about the only thing we had in common.
Her idea of going away on holiday was a last desperate throw of the dice. We disagreed about everything but I must admit that her choice of that cottage was inspired. No mobile signal. No Wi-Fi. Miles from anywhere. Just the two of us. Perfect. I counted the days.
Ever helpful, on that first day I sorted out her tablets. Four green. Two red.
“I hope you’ve checked the labels,” she snapped. Di really couldn’t help herself.
I had. Three times. To be on the safe side.
When I returned from picking wild mushrooms, it was all over. Virtually.
I dropped the mushrooms on the kitchen floor, shattering a perfectly good bowl. A nice touch for possible forensics.
At the inquest, it was hard to gauge the right amount of stiff upper lip but luckily actuaries are not known for being emotional. I blamed myself – those stupid mushrooms! – but the coroner told me to not be ridiculous. It was a “tragic accident” and the headlines were written.
After all, confusing red and green is common in colour blindness. And what had that careers advisor said? I’d never make a pharmacist. I’m sure my wife would agree. If she were here.
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Judge’s comments: Again, a good opening, revealing the main character’s colour blindness. The writer has used the limited word count to good effect, so that every word contributes to the story. I enjoyed the dark humour of a good murder story.
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Third Place:
Clueless by Linda Cooper
It’s going well. I’m pretty sure I’ll be hired. I cross my legs ensuring my skirt inches up further. Reverend Green may wear a white collar but his thoughts are far from pure. Rumour has it he’s a womaniser, a fraudster, and of course he’s been a murder suspect, as have the rest of this interview panel.
The suspicious death of Doctor Black, the owner of this splendid mansion was never solved but one of these colourful characters is guilty. Where in the house it happened and the weapon used are still unsolved mysteries.
‘So, Doctor Orchid, what are your interests?’ asks Mrs Peacock. She smiles regally, her blue-green eyes giving nothing away.
‘I’m very interested in ornithology.’ I lie. I have it on authority she harbours plans to turn the mansion into a bird sanctuary. Over my dead body. Or hers.
She seems satisfied with the answer, but not so Colonel Mustard by the look on his jaundiced face. I’ll keep an eye on him; I hear he sleeps with a revolver under his pillow.
‘You’re highly qualified,’ says Professor Plum, peering over his purple-rimmed glasses with a look of indignation. Is he worried about my intellectual capacity? He should be.
‘The thing is,’ interrupts Miss Scarlett, cheeks flushing. ‘Mrs White was a wonderful nurse and cook. Can you see yourself attending to the infirm and toiling in the kitchen? We do miss her since she retired’
Retired my ass. She was bumped off. Scared she’d inherit the mansion after Doctor Black’s demise they each have a plan to make it their own. They haven’t a clue I’m his adopted daughter and will ensure I claim what is mine, no matter what it takes.
‘I specialise in those areas and many others.’
Including murder.
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Judge’s comments: Another good opening, inviting the reader into the story which is a very clever and humorous spoof on the board game. Well written, with a good ending.
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