Apparently everyone should flash at least once in their lifetime so I thought I'd leave the comfort of my safety blanket for a quick flash which I offer you below. No idea if its what one would properly call flash fiction but have a read and let me know :)
The Queue
Peering in through the window just after opening time, they would always be rewarded with an incredible display. It became a morning ritual for the people standing at the bus stop on the main road out of the village.
James and Helen McIlroy, a recently married couple, were always first in the queue. They were first in the queue before they were married and it seemed as if nothing had changed now they had tied the knot. They would hold hands and peer in through the window smiling at each other before claiming their place at the front of the queue.
It didn’t matter what the weather was like the ritual was always the same, those in the bus queue taking their turn to look through the window. James and Helen knew that if you didn’t get there early on, the blinds would come down to prevent the early morning sun from pouring in through the window.
Freddy Harbinger was usually next in the queue. He was 13 years old and always seemed like he had dressed on his way to the bus stop as his school uniform had the appearance of being dragged through a hedge backwards. Freddy was always in a hurry. However each morning he did take a few minutes to press his nose against the window and for a moment time and him stood still.
Amy Bull was always the second to last person to arrive and was usually dragging her half sleepy child Desire behind her. Desire was the result of a one night stand and Amy’s justification for her daughters name was related to how she felt on the night she conceived. Amy would lift Desire, closer to the window to get a better look.
Miraculously, old Mrs Kershaw always made it to the bus stop with three minutes to spare, just before the window blinds came down and the bus arrived to take them all into town.
It was then that they spoke to one another.
Exquisitely crafted, each a carefully constructed piece of art, Mrs Dodgson’s butterfly cakes were the talk of the village.
