Ashby Writers Club (9th Apr)
Prose fiction 300 words (+/- 5 words): “A flight of fancy.”
Winner: What? Who? by Paul Haynes, see top three entries below.
Ashby Writers Club 25th June
Verse (up to 40 lines): “Regrets” or “No Regrets”
Two entries by Mike below
Ashby Writers Club 23rd July
Prose fiction: Ambition
Winner Paul Haynes
These are the winning entries to the 'Flight of Fancy' competition.
The winners were placed as follows:
1. What? Who? by Paul Haynes
2. Enemy at Three O'Clock by Alf Gillaspy
3. Flying with Confidence by Steve Bull
Enemy at Three O'Clock
George pulled on the joy-stick. The plane climbed through the clouds into bright sunshine above. Suddenly a bandit appeared at three o'clock. George pulled his plane towards the enemy. He squeezed the button on his firing console. Bright flashes of tracer came from the other plane but George kept his aim steady. The enemy aircraft exploded in a huge fireball. He pulled hard on the joystick to swerve round the edge of the explosion.
For a few moments he was in clear sky then he became aware of several enemy aircraft on his tail. He went into a steep dive. The bandits followed. Streaks of tracer flew past his window. It was now or never. He pulled on the joystick with all his might. He shot up in the air going in a huge loop. Now he was behind them. He'd show them.
He could hear a voice in his headphones. No time now. A burst of shrapnel caught him in the arm.
"Give me back my Barbie box." It was the voice of his sister. Suddenly his starboard wing disappeared. He cleverly tilted his plane so as to fly on one wing.
"Mum, George has bent my Barbie box and he's messing with your case of quilts."
George wheeled the plane round and started for home.
"George, what are you doing with that?"
Now his engine was wrenched away. He was doomed.
"Now come to the table and eat your dinner."
George trudged into the mess clutching his arm where the shrapnel had hit him. He opened his mouth to speak.
"Not a word!" The order was accompanied by a pointing fork. His face fell. They didn't understand.
A plate of ham, egg and chips was placed before him. George smiled again. Only the bravest pilots were given ham, eggs and chips.
Flying With Confidence
My hands clutched the arm rests as I struggled to catch my breath. Outside, the terminal building slipped past as we headed out to the runway. The ‘Flying With Confidence’ workshop and flight had been a birthday gift from my daughter.
“A flight of fancy”, she had called it. “The stuff that dreams are made of!” Nightmares, more like it!
As someone who suffers panic attacks at the first sight of a plane and feelings of claustrophobia I get when I step inside I still am not sure if her motives were to help me overcome my fears or indeed simply pure sadism.
Vicky had shown me a copy of the Daily Mirror story on the introduction of the Virgin glass bottomed A320 Airbus to their fleet. “Not for the nervous ones like you Dad!” she quipped! Oh, how she had laughed at the April Fool story. Oh, how I hadn’t!
The aircraft thundered down the runway, and then as silence took over I realised we were airborne. With an involuntary glance out of the window I saw houses and streets hundreds of feet below. I tried to apply the breathing exercises and relaxation tips we had learnt on the ground. “We are now cruising at thirty thousand feet.” My heart was pounding! How do planes stay in the air? The plane banked to circle the airport. I could not stop imagining that the engines would fail.
The flight seemed to last an eternity. I watched the seconds tick by on my watch as the allotted hour came and went.
‘Ladies and Gentlemen we are sorry to announce that due to mechanical difficulties we are unable to lower the nose wheel for landing. Hopefully some sharp manoeuvres should free the mechanism. We will keep you up to date with developments.”
MICHAEL WILLIAM MOXLEY
If because your life is too dull
You bash in your beloved’s skull
To pass a little time
The police will never take the view
That it’s just something people do
They treat it as a crime.
As to your hammering in her brain -
Instead of trying to explain,
Issue a denial
And raid the piggy bank and try
To get the best brief cash can buy
Well before the trial.
The task of that man is to show
How well you loved that hammer so
With feelings pure and deep
That so enraged the jealous dead
She whacked the hammer with her head
And did it in her sleep.
But though you’ve justice on your side
A perverse jury can decide
You’re guilty – just a tad.
Stand as stoically as you can
Take your punishment like a man
Probation’s not so bad.
If after sentencing you feel
The legal system’s not ideal
The verdict was not fair
Because you paid good cash across -
Take comfort in your sense of loss
Such things are very rare.
MICHAEL WILLIAM MOXLEY
If I were you and you were me
Would you then see as I would see
Or would you view things differently?
And then again, I don’t agree
With half the stuff you say to me
And since I know that I am right
How could your black become my white?
Unless I’d think the way you do
Since I’d not be me – I’d be you.
Though if we think the process through
And view it universally
I’m part of you, you’re part of me
There’s you and me and us – all three