I made it to the Longlist for a Flash Fiction competition, at Brilliant Flash Fiction magazine.
In celebration, I going to share the story here. All 299 words, entitled ‘Eggs’.
‘Good morning, sleeping beauty!’
Morning? Tori had put her head on the pillow only two minutes ago. She opened an eye to see daylight pouring in from behind her curtains. Crap, had she missed her shuttle?
She shot upright. ‘What time is it?’
‘Don’t worry, honey.’ Sarah’s voice was soothing. ‘You’ve got time. Here, drink this.’ She sat on the edge of the bed and handed Tori a steaming cup.
‘Thanks,’ murmured Tori. ‘What is it?’
‘Wake-me-up tea. Great for the morning-after. Or else, young lady, you would have the morning-after to end all morning-afters.’
‘Oh yes. Tori Lancaster was in flying form last night.’
Tori groaned then took a dutiful sip. It wasn’t awful . ‘I thought you were supposed to be looking after me.’
‘I was. It’s an unwritten rule that a sleepless night is not the appropriate preparation for a long journey. You needed to forget, to sleep, to rest. You’ve done that. Now you can go.’
‘Damn. Do I have to?’
‘Yes, you do. If you want to keep your job. And if you have any bit of proper, scientific curiosity. Which I know you have. You need to get over it, Tori. Trust in the safety record of the most powerful engine ever built.’
‘God bless Mr Quirke.’
‘God bless Mr Quirke, indeed.’
‘I was being bloody ironic!’
Sarah shook her head. ‘Enough of the chit chat. There’s your flight suit.’
Tori’s jaw dropped. Hanging in the corner was a dark purple one-piece. This was becoming all too real.
‘Courier delivered it last night. Now, you should have breakfast before you throw it on. Wouldn’t want to set off with scrambled eggs down the front.’
‘Ugh. Not eggs. Seriously.’
Sarah raised a brow. ‘Come, eat. You’ve got a Moon shuttle to catch.’