Welcome to the two hundred and eighty-fifth 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 in second person-viewpoint from the keyword prompt of ‘chase’. Here is my 356-worder.
The photo that no-one else can get
You’ve been chasing her for days, to get the photo that no-one else can get. She knows you’re there. There’s always someone there.
It’s a lifestyle she’s had to become accustomed to, only you don’t think she ever will. It’s not one you’d want, except she’s become your job, your life.
When she emerges out of the building, you reach over to your camera, on its dashboard tripod, and set it to continuous.
You follow her car through narrow streets, wide streets – her executive to your jalopy, the only thing you could get at short notice. You’re used to this place, she’s been here a lot.
Most of the shots are of the back of her head but you know she could look round. She has before.
As her car gathers speed so does yours. It complains but it’s not yours so you’re not bothered.
As she heads into the tunnel, she edges forward and you floor the accelerator, a little too close for comfort but you decide to go alongside, get level, no other cars in sight, so you swivel round your camera in anticipation, a momentary lapse in concentration.
You scream as your car clips hers, a white graze on a black beast, but you keep driving, then slow… watching in the rear view mirror as the Mercedes’ offside hits the pillar, then spins, making contact with the front, ricocheting into the nearside, only the boot intact.
Then you see the other cars, lights on, stop at the scene and you speed away, heart pounding, sweat rising in your armpits and head back to your room, taking the smallest streets you know of, hearing but not seeing the sirens that wake up a sleeping city.
As you look at the screen, you study the dozens of photographs that you know no-one else but you will see. You’ll delete them, never printing them, burn the memory stick to be sure, buy a new computer, but not yet. You put them in a folder and know that whatever you do with them you’ll never forget – the world will never forget – the day you killed a princess.
***
Photograph above courtesy of morguefile.com. Apart from being inspired by true events, some months ago I read Alexis Sayle’s ‘Barcelona Plates’ and that story’s always stayed with me.
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Morgen 'with an E' Bailey 
I knew half way through there was a parallel to Di – as soon as you mentioned tunnel. Well done.
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Ah, I should have been more subtle. Glad you liked it though. Thanks, Yvonne.
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