Welcome to #39 of the Friday Fiction Writing Challenge! Here’s a complete list of all the posts so far. Feel free to join in.
I’m going to start this post with a couple of quick announcements/updates for the challenge.
- With the COVID-19 outbreak hitting hard, I’m going to have to reduce the challenge to every fortnight (every two weeks). If I can post more than that, I will. Don’t worry, I’m not ill—and touch wood—neither is anyone I know. The reason behind the change is down to picking up extra responsibilities while my husband’s workload increases in the food retail sector to meet the massive increase in demand.
- There’s a slight change in the challenge rules. We have a new word count limit: 500-ish words.
And onto the post.
This week’s random word is: Prestige
Kelvin jerked awake, taking a few seconds to remember he was on the back of the snowmobile.
Amy turned her head toward him and raised her voice over the whine of the engine. “You better stay awake and hold on, because I’m not turning around if you fall off.” She grinned, but it didn’t mask her concern.
The darkness edged his vision again, the enveloping calm of it so enticing. If he let it take him, there’d be no star for him on the wall of Deniable Unit HQ, no prestige. He’d just be a dead traitor. If he let it take him, his team—hell, the whole organisation—would pay for his failure. And, they’d never see it coming.
“Hey! Stay with me!”
He jolted back to consciousness and tightened his grip around Amy’s waist.
Even through the layers of clothing, her curves taunted him, reminded him. He’d been an idiot to kiss her again. His brutal world wasn’t for a woman like her. She should be at home with a man who would keep her safe—one who had no reason to know seventeen different ways to kill with his bare hands. The thought didn’t sit well.
The engine sputtered and coughed, their pace slow and jolting, until they came to an abrupt stop. Amy turned the key, again and again, in frantic succession. Nothing. She bowed her head.
She’d probably come to the same conclusion Kelvin had a few bouts of lucidity ago. They weren’t going to make it. Not both of them. He eased himself off the snowmobile, away from the warmth and comfort of Amy. “We’re a couple of miles away from where we’re heading.” He winced as he removed the backpack. “You need to head south-west following that ridgeline,” he nodded the direction, “keep it on your right—”
“I’m not leaving you here to die.” She hopped off the vehicle, grabbing the deadman’s switch. “Also, don’t dare try to teach me how to suck eggs.” A light blush coloured her cheeks. “I mean, I’m more than qualified to navigate to where ever it is we’re going.”
“I’m not going to make it, but I can take out anyone who comes this way.”
Worry edged her eyes and mouth as she took him in, but she chased it away with a huff. “How’s the wound? Is it still bleeding?”
Kelvin hadn’t checked since they’d left the cave. He opened his coat. Blood had seeped through the makeshift bandage into the padding of the jacket, but the wound seemed to have stopped bleeding. “It’s okay for now.”
“Are you always so melodramatic, or is it the thought of walking that’s making you whine?” She swung the pack onto her back, then lashed the dead man’s switch around his wrist and tugged at it. “Come on, we don’t have all day.”
For the first time in his life, he was speechless. For the first time in months, he had hope that he’d make it.
Thanks for reading. Take care of yourselves and those around you. Be nice to retail workers—they didn’t create the chaos in stores. And, keep washing those hands 🧼🤩
How To Join In:
- Using the prompt, write a maximum of 500-ish words of fiction. (This can be a scene, flash fiction, some dialogue, a bit of description, etc.)
- Link to this post in your post.
- Add the tags ffwc, genre scribes, and the genre your post is in.
- The deadline is 6 PM the following Friday.
Full information is on the Genre Scribes: Friday Fiction Writing Challenge page.