2012 Flash Competition Winners
First prize: Unforeseen by Laura Shepherd
Glenda was unpacked and tucked in. The duty doctor had been round; tea had been offered and drunk.
“Time you let Glenda get some rest,” said the nurse, as if they had been doing the tango. He didn´t want to go.
“You´ll be alright?” he said. A brave smile was worn by both.
“Of course I will, and you? You´ll be alright? I´ve written everything down; your spag bol should have defrosted by the time you get home and…”
“Glenda! Stop worrying about me, it´s you that´s in here.” A pause ensued during which both pondered whether this had come across as kind, or a bit tactless.
“I´m being looked after here, but who will take care of my Robert?” He crumpled before her and began to weep, his head on her arm, his hand gripping her sleeve.
“I can´t bear it,” he said.
“You can and you will.” Glenda lifted his head, cupping his face, and tried to stroke the sadness away.
A sleepless night, a quiet house. He followed the green lines on the floor to the ward, busy uniforms criss-crossing. Reception.
“Oh Mr Hamlin, I´ll get Nurse Garret to see you now.”
“It´s alright, I just want to go through and see Glenda.”
“No Mr Hamlin, take a seat please.”
He was shown to a room; cushioned chairs, a coffee table, a vase of yellow pansies, and a box of tissues.
Second prize: Meet me in Belfast by Trish Leake
In the back of a police land rover, going to Divis Flats was not the safest place to be in 1979 Belfast. We’d only had a coffee and catch up, three hugs…kisses were not forthcoming, but I was in love all over again.
When we couldn’t find the car in the car park, it had been like an adventure, buzzed into the police station through the twelve-foot security fencing. Found quickly, abandoned in Divis, they were on their way to retrieve it. On an expanse of wasteland surrounded by concrete blocks of flats, the car stood marooned; the boot wide open.
‘Sorry, if they know we don’t go near them, they don’t booby-trap them. We’ve ascertained the keys are in it. Good luck!’ The six-foot-four policeman got back into the land rover and waited.
‘Let’s go,’ I smiled.
‘Sure?’
We stood either side, grasping the handles. One-two-three! We were inside on two, laughing so much I felt I might wee. I put my hand on his knee. He grabbed it, squeezed hard and turned the ignition. The engine roared and so did we, laughing, crying, and shrieking like banshees. The land rover flashed its lights and drove off.
He closed the boot.
‘They’ve nicked the radio and speakers.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘I’m not’, looking at me.
‘I love you’. He stopped me and I’d forgotten his short, soft kisses.
Looking back, I felt reborn, but now I wonder if I’d rather have died with him then and there.
Glenda was unpacked and tucked in. The duty doctor had been round; tea had been offered and drunk.
“Time you let Glenda get some rest,” said the nurse, as if they had been doing the tango. He didn´t want to go.
“You´ll be alright?” he said. A brave smile was worn by both.
“Of course I will, and you? You´ll be alright? I´ve written everything down; your spag bol should have defrosted by the time you get home and…”
“Glenda! Stop worrying about me, it´s you that´s in here.” A pause ensued during which both pondered whether this had come across as kind, or a bit tactless.
“I´m being looked after here, but who will take care of my Robert?” He crumpled before her and began to weep, his head on her arm, his hand gripping her sleeve.
“I can´t bear it,” he said.
“You can and you will.” Glenda lifted his head, cupping his face, and tried to stroke the sadness away.
A sleepless night, a quiet house. He followed the green lines on the floor to the ward, busy uniforms criss-crossing. Reception.
“Oh Mr Hamlin, I´ll get Nurse Garret to see you now.”
“It´s alright, I just want to go through and see Glenda.”
“No Mr Hamlin, take a seat please.”
He was shown to a room; cushioned chairs, a coffee table, a vase of yellow pansies, and a box of tissues.
Second prize: Meet me in Belfast by Trish Leake
In the back of a police land rover, going to Divis Flats was not the safest place to be in 1979 Belfast. We’d only had a coffee and catch up, three hugs…kisses were not forthcoming, but I was in love all over again.
When we couldn’t find the car in the car park, it had been like an adventure, buzzed into the police station through the twelve-foot security fencing. Found quickly, abandoned in Divis, they were on their way to retrieve it. On an expanse of wasteland surrounded by concrete blocks of flats, the car stood marooned; the boot wide open.
‘Sorry, if they know we don’t go near them, they don’t booby-trap them. We’ve ascertained the keys are in it. Good luck!’ The six-foot-four policeman got back into the land rover and waited.
‘Let’s go,’ I smiled.
‘Sure?’
We stood either side, grasping the handles. One-two-three! We were inside on two, laughing so much I felt I might wee. I put my hand on his knee. He grabbed it, squeezed hard and turned the ignition. The engine roared and so did we, laughing, crying, and shrieking like banshees. The land rover flashed its lights and drove off.
He closed the boot.
‘They’ve nicked the radio and speakers.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘I’m not’, looking at me.
‘I love you’. He stopped me and I’d forgotten his short, soft kisses.
Looking back, I felt reborn, but now I wonder if I’d rather have died with him then and there.