The Unicorn Challenge.
A magical new weekly writing opportunity from her – Jenne Gray – and me.
Visit her blog every Friday to see the photo prompt, and post your amazing story in her comments section.
Or on your own blog, and stick the link down in her comments.
The rules are:
Maximum of 250 words.
Based on photo prompt.
That’s it.
To hear me read my story, just click here:
Accidents
‘Look,’ says my wife, holding her tablet up towards me. ‘Another child has been killed!’
I pause at my keyboard.
‘What? How?’
‘Hit by a car when out on her bike,’ she tells me.
‘Where?’
‘On Avenue Marie Curie, along the far end, near the little calanque.’
I stare at her in horror.
‘How many is that now?’
‘That’s the third one since…’
Her voice trails off, and she chokes back a sob.
I take her tablet, put my arms around her, comfort her.
And myself.
It’s a year now since the accident.
Our son, our beautiful boy, was hit by a car on his way home from school.
On his bike.
He was seven years old.
All the protective equipment was useless.
He flew through the air and broke his neck.
The car didn’t stop, and the driver has never come forward, never been identified.
Somehow, barely believably, this makes it even worse.
The thing is, this is a quiet area in a quiet little town.
There’s hardly any traffic here.
And yet all these children are dying.
Every one a hit-and-run.
As I scan the words on the tablet, I sense my wife is watching me.
Her eyes are red, swimming with tears.
But there’s something else in them too.
‘It doesn’t say exactly where…’ I begin, my voice puzzled.
Then I stop, feeling a chill seeping through my very existence.
‘Well,’ she says. ‘It isn’t fair, is it? Why should other parents be happy?’
Sound Bite Fiction 
Oh my…what does he do?
Eerie story.
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Wow, that went really dark, and I never saw it coming! Ladysighs asks some very astute questions & now my mind is really twisting. I applaud you, Sir!
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Thanks, Liz, always happy to twist a reader’s mind!
As for Ladysighs, I have nothing to add.
She is simply unique!
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Oh my. I was not expecting that. As always, you are masterful.
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I like ‘Oh my’ a lot.
And I like ‘masterful’ even more!
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You truly are masterful. You pack so much into 250 words — it’s amazing!
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Oh lordy lordy, I didn’t see that coming and neither did he. I can’t imagine how he dealt with it.
A terrific tale.
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I like ‘Oh lordy lordy’ a lot.
And I quite like ‘terrific’ too!
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We all hope we will never be faced with this dilemma of what to do. And like all of your stories I (we) are faced with what to comment. “Great Story” “Interesting Twist” etc or something longer? Or maybe just give a like?
You are predictable and from your opening sentence I knew the ending would be topsy-turvy. So I started looking for anything that would give a clue as to what might be coming. And it may take another reading which is of course what every writer wants his readers to do.
REREAD MY STORY!
Why am I making my comment so long? You will find out at the end. No fair peeking.
A reader always draws some conclusions …. right or wrong.
1. He has always known his wife is responsible.
2. She wants him to know she is guilty.
3. She gives little hints with each new accident.
4. She even knows that he knows she is guilty.
5. But this time she must be emphatic.
6. She cannot bear this burden alone.
7. He comforts her each time and they continue the charade.
8. He knows she knows he knows.
Why my comment is long:
On January 12, 2024 I started a poem called: He Said Nothing. I made some edits but never published it or even thought about it until reading your story. The situation was rather similar. I will publish it after you have replied to the comments here.
Oh, and about my not adding a song to my Unicorn posts, you missed one that was made just for you or you did not comment. I posted it on Dec 16,2023. And I did leave the link on talesfromglasgow. So there!
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Well, my dear Lady, this is undoubtedly the comment of the week/year/decade/millennium.
But first let me apologise for being so predictable.
A mere lack of creative talent, I assure you.
As for your conclusions, who’s to say which are right or wrong, but your analysis is very impressive.
Re not adding a song, I have always thought that all of them are made just for me.
Vanity thy name is Ayr!
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Chilling twist, CE.
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Thanks, Tom.
‘Chilling’ seems to the this week’s reaction!
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There is no heartache as profound as a mother’s nor the need to balance the scales. Now the husband knows and what will he do with that knowledge? Allow her to carry on until she becomes careless or put an end to it? Brilliant storytelling, CE. A nod to Billy J.
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The loss of a child is unimaginable to most of us, completely alien to our life view.
Thanks for the kind words, Nancy.
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The haunting ending came as a shock and really grabbed. Of course she’s right, it isn’t fair. What does he do now?
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Good question, Michael, with no good answer.
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Masterful, CE. One of your best. Trois chapeaux.
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Thanks
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And through me too, that chill.
A tragic story already, so quietly laid out, but then that ending…
And most sensitively read.
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Seems that ‘chill’ is the general reaction this week, Jenne!
Glad it hit the mark.
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Dude!
(odd comment to follow*)
I had to read your story twice.
I didn’t get mad or embarrassed**
I was happy. Simple story. Devious (and for some) not obvious pay-off/climax.
(Admittedly I read these and other stories from bloghop with two minds. 1) to be entertained and b) to spot and learn technique that I hopefully might acquire for my own purposes.)
But! (I won’t spoil it for anyone who might read the comments before the story, or more likely, someone how might have missed it), six words!
I repeat, Dude!
Very cool
*yeah, like <em>that</em> ever happens
** sometimes I don’t pay attention to the details…
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Laughing here.
Thanks, Clark, I’m just happy it worked for you!
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That’s exactly how I was going to say. Chilling. Really well done, CE!
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Thanks, Chris.
‘Chilling’ works for me!
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I have chills! Great story.
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Thank you.
I like ‘chills’!
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