Wednesday, 27 June 2012

INTO THE BLUE - 300 Word Story Contest - June 2012 - Linda Palund


            Thomas showed me to our usual table overlooking the dining terrace. David wasn’t there waiting for me.
            I ordered a black coffee and took out my diary.  The one I use for my regular job.  I stared at the empty pages and thought about David, the way the blue of his eyes reflected whatever space he was in.
            After 30 minutes, I began to feel concerned.  After 45 minutes, Thomas asked me if I wanted to order something.
             “Could you bring me the bill, please?” I said, wondering what space David was in now.
            “Of course, Madam.”
            I paid in cash, then rose, studying the crowd outside.  Sunlight streamed through the latticework onto the tables.  Everyone looked happy. No one looked towards me. 
            I walked casually through the restaurant, planning my next step. When an agent loses their handler, they must follow protocol.  I sent a text.             
            “I’ve broken the heel of my shoe. Can you bring me another pair?”
            “Sorry, I can’t.”
            That was it then.  The fragile wall separating me from disaster crumbled.  I read the news on my phone:  “Man killed in hit and run outside Opera identified as David Gold, software designer.”
            I walked downhill from St Denis, into the Jewish Quarter, and deposited my message in the “Building fund” box outside an ancient synagogue, a £2 note.
            I took the small valise from the locker I kept at Gare Du Nord, containing two changes of clothes and $50,000 in cash, and boarded the next train to Amsterdam.            
            In the lowlands, the blue water reflected a perfect image of the train.  I wondered if David was really dead.  
            I knew I had been nothing more than a useful tool to him, but without him, I wasn’t sure what use I was to anyone.  

Monday, 18 June 2012



            The experiment on Io was a failure. It’s splendid surface too shallow, its fragile crust too thin. It burst open in an explosion of poisonous lava, covering all and destroying everything that had been created.
             Disappointed, the R7 Robots returned to the border planets. Even an R7 Robot can understand disappointment. Disappointment is when reality fails to live up to one's expectations

Friday, 8 June 2012

FRIDAY FICTIONEERS - 8 June 2012 - LEARNING TO FLOAT - Linda Palund's 100 Words


We float on a breeze as light as milkweed fluff, as light as dandelion spores, as light as the kiss you did not feel when I pressed my lips against your forehead last night.
 The blue of the sky is an illusion of colour reflected from an ocean we no longer see; we float so far above.
We have lost our moorings.  We are weightless, as weightless as embryos. Nothing holds us here.
 Floating like this, we wish never to touch down. Perhaps the helium will explode, scattering our atoms across the Universe.  Then we will surely be weightless forever.