I’m actually a judge on Rachael Harrie’s first campaign challenge and so it seems only fair to post something of my own (which I assume others will judge!) before I start looking at other posts. So with some (actually great) trepidation I’m posting my own 200 words beginning ‘The door swung open’. Yes, it invites horror, don’t you think, or at the very least suspense?
Well I rarely do flash fiction, and I never do horror, and so I’ve gone for something more domestic, (or should I say domesticated ?) Anyway, here it is. I’m running for cover.
The Fridge that Talked
The door swung open then closed again as Laura jammed her foot against it.
Bloody fridge, bloody door, it had been doing this for weeks. Only yesterday she’d got up to find the milk tepid and the bacon streaked with green. The whole lot had to go in the bin.
Today she sniffed the (new) carton of milk and switched on the kettle, but before she’d made the tea the door was doing its usual trick, daring her to give it another kick. She sat down on the floor, her back against the pesky door. Who did she know who fixed fridges?
From down here things looked even worse. The lino was torn, the neon tube spattered with insects that had crawled inside to die. She should make more effort, ring the landlord, buy a new light, for God’s sake.
As she got up, the fridge made another plea for attention. She gave it a long hard look. The landlord never answered his phone. Fixing things wasn’t her scene. There was a world out there, better than this.
The following day she packed and left.
In the flat, the door of the fridge swung closed of its own accord.
Perhaps I should have said, if anyone would like to record their appreciation of this attempt, you can do so via links at the end of the challenge post.