An Incendiary Grievance by Pat Wright, hot toddy

The shattering glass, as it splinters the frosty stillness, interrupts the creaking slumber of the venerable old hall. A smouldering missile, symbol of so much pent-up anger lies inert. Fortified by the artwork, hastily abandoned when the claxon sounded, the flames find their bearing.

Licking and slithering the fire comes sneaking across the polished floor. In a flash it catches on to a stack of chairs and is on its way up the faded velvet, quickly obliterating the achievements of bygone scholars that line the walls. With simultaneous surges the blaze lays siege to the stage and finds an easy victim in the scenery. A terrifyingly different truth to the illusion it was designed to create. 

The crackling flames give way to a roar as they race around the wings and arch over the stage. The successes and failures, the ambitions and apathies are ingrained in these timbered walls. The friendships and the rivalries are rooted here too. 

Amid the falling rafters the two grand pianos come to life as the wires snap in the intense heat: summoning the music of all who have played under this roof. The infernal concerto reaches its climax as the balcony gives way and plunges to earth.

There is no way back! The roof can hold on no longer and the explosion that brings it crashing down alerts the neighbours to the devastation that is in progress.  

Like a phoenix another building will rise in these ashes and this night of wanton destruction will have done nothing to resolve this incendiary grievance.

About the author

Pat’s creative talents mainly focus on Art. However, In common with the themes she chooses for her paintings, her adventures into Flash Fiction aim to create narratives which are abstracts of ideas that have irregular angles or perspectives.

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Making Headway by Pat Wright, soda pop

The station waiting room is cramped and cosy. It’s a refuge from the elements for a single female passenger. Curled up in a corner, she has been here for some time. She dozes intermittently enjoying the warmth and the comfort of the red plush bench. An open fire is labouring to sustain itself. Sporadically it springs to life with a crackle. A few sparks drift lazily up the chimney, but the glowing coke mostly whistles and sighs tenderly. Somewhere, there is the drone of distant voices, but they are not her concern. The regular tock of the station clock is the soundscape of her sanctuary. Time passes routinely and the tempo of station life ticks on.

Tring tring! Tring tring! The calm of this peaceful backwater is rudely shattered, and the traveller prepares to start her journey

In his cream and red nerve centre the signalman is on high alert. He releases the long levers and the gates swing free. All his energy is concentrated on turning the large wheel and allowing access to the station.

The distant speck progressing down the line appears to gain momentum as it gets nearer. Finally, looming large, it surges into the platform and briefly comes to rest. The train now standing in the platform could be going anywhere: that information is for some to know but others to discover. No one appears too worried.

With some apprehension the sleepy passenger gets onboard. The carriage is empty and, tucking herself into a corner, she searches for clues that this is the right train. The doors close automatically. As the station recedes all memory of the waiting room is erased. She submits to her new surroundings and a drowsy nothingness once more takes over. 

But not for long! Fully awake now she feels herself tensing as the train picks up speed and heads towards a tunnel. With a whoosh she is rushed headfirst into the unknown. She starts to panic as the darkness consumes her. But, at the other end of this abyss all is peaceful again and the train continues on its way.

It can’t be happening! The tunnel is coming for her again. This time it swallows her up and she feel as if her head will burst as she is sucked into the void. Nevertheless, at the end of it she is comforted by the stillness that follows and she relaxes. However the tunnel is looming large again like a huge balloon which becomes a pulsating chasm that immediately consumes the whole of the carriage. Sweet relief! But no! Here it comes again. And again! And again! Amoeba like the balloon continually transforms into a phenomenon that is absolutely horrifying, and she is quite powerless to get away. Mouth pricking and tingling with apprehension, nerves resonating on high alert; she is drawn at speed into that stifling interior.

Just then a sudden sharp intake of breath prompts the passenger to cry out. Is it relief or panic she is feeling? Maybe it’s a tinge of excitement? Whatever! Early morning on the 24^th of May 1947 sees her catapulted headfirst into the waiting world and her next big adventure is about to begin. 

 

 

About the author

  

Pat’s creative talents mainly focus on Art. However, In common with the themes she chooses for her paintings, her adventures into Flash Fiction aim to create narratives which are abstracts of ideas that have irregular angles or perspectives.

Did you enjoy the story? Would you like to shout us a coffee? Half of what you pay goes to the writers and half towards supporting the project (web site maintenance, preparing the next Best of book etc.)