Welcome to the two hundred and eighty-second in this series that is ‘5pm Fiction’.
Late April 2011 I discovered StoryADay.org and the project that is to write 31 stories in 31 days. Anyone who knows me or follows this blog, knows how passionate I am about short stories so my clichéd eyes lit up at this new marvel. And just a few days later there I was, breathing life into new characters. This went on to become (with some editing of course) my 31-story collection eBook Story A Day May 2011. I have since published (as eBooks) the 2012 and 2013 collections, detailed on https://morgenbailey.wordpress.com/books-mine/short-stories/story-a-day-may.
I was nearing completion of the 2012 project when I decided that I didn’t want to stop at the end of May so 5PM Fiction was born. I put a load of prompts on the 5PM Fiction page and today’s was to write a story from the keyword prompts of… I’ve cheated actually and used a piece I wrote at a workshop a few weeks ago, where the prompts were: pineapple, fatalism, baboon, poison, sock, nightingale, cuddle, love, puddle… which is why it’s quite random. Here is my 178-worder.
Only A Matter Of Time
Ingrid was watching a documentary about a pineapple-eating baboon, despite the fatality of documentaries depressing her. Having the mute on seemed to help.
She heard the nightingale singing high above the puddle by the back door. A music teacher would be able to tell her which key it was in, but she didn’t care. She thought it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard.
Her escape bolthole had become a prison – ever since she’d discovered a public footpath leading to the farm with the rusty, squeaky gate.
She wished she had a pet; unconditional love, cuddles on tap, but she had to make do with the television, and the nightingale, for company.
Slugs threatened to invade and so far had been succumbed to the poison she’d put down but she was sure it was only a matter of time until they became accustomed. Everything, or at least everyone, did eventually.
Folding the last of the washing, the mismatching pairs of socks, the towels bought especially for the house, she heard a knock at the door, and screamed.
***
Photograph above courtesy of morguefile.com.
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