Welcome to the blog hop! We authors get to take some time answering questions about writing, our favourite recipes and much more. Thanks for tuning in this week. If you missed what the lovely Kathryn Renard had to say just click and pop back. This week Marc Stevens asks us:
Flash Fiction Challenge: Planes, trains, and automobiles (or even boats) give us a quick scene set on/in a moving vehicle.
He doesn’t know this is my first flight. I peek at the seatmate next to me. I’m struck, mesmerized. His eyes are so brown it’s like I’m drowning in chocolate. Maybe if I stare into his eyes he won’t figure out I’m terrified of flying.
He smiles at me and my insides soften, my fears melt behind me.
“Hello,” he says in a deep baritone that sends shivers down my spine.
I manage to stutter a reply. Could I be anymore of a dork? The plane begins to taxi, we are moving and my hand tightens on the armrest. My stomach rumbles with uncertainty. I’ve never flown before. Of course the one time I do, I’m sitting next to a God sent down to earth.
He slicks his hand through his hair.
His amazing curly mahogany hair. Maybe if I run my hands through the silky locks everything will be fine. I glance out the small foggy window and immediately regret it. I can’t watch the land disappear below me. I close my eyes but it doesn’t help.
“Are you alright?” The God asks. “Is this your first time?”
My eyes snap open. “Of course it’s not my first time!” I cry in panic. “Why would you think that?”
“You’re turning green,” he replies with a laugh.
The wave of nausea disperses for the moment. I must keep him talking. It’s the only way I’ll survive. “So where are you traveling to?”
“Well we are both on the same flight headed to London.”
I laugh, it comes out like a gurgle. “Silly me. I meant is that your last stop or are you onto somewhere else?”
He pops open a can of ginger ale and hands it to me. “Here this should help. I’m on a business trip. What about you?”
The plane dips with turbulence and I grip onto his hand.
“It’s alright to be afraid, I was on my first flight.” He puts his hand over mine, it’s warm, comforting.
I stare into his eyes. Chocolate, think about warm melted chocolate. “I’m not afraid. I’m…” My stomach rolls. No I can’t! Not on the God. I squeeze his hand.
“Are you sure you’re alright? You’re as pale as a ghost.”
The hum of the airplane drowns out his voice. The plane shakes once again, ginger ale spills onto the tray in front of me. I lower my head. Oh no…
“Miss?”
I shake my head in horror as my stomach heaves. I try to turn away, but end up vomiting all over my lap and his hands.
The God looks on in shock and disgust.
Why oh why couldn’t I have sat next to a grouchy old man?
Well that was fun! Thanks for the great topic, Marc. Now continue on and see which mode of transportation S.C. Mitchell wrote about. Until next time!
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