Obviously, Eleanor has been my main writing focus and currently the second book in this series has taken Eleanor’s place. However, I still enjoy writing short pieces on lots of different subjects, just to keep my hand in, to give my brain a little practice in different areas. With writing, there is no such thing as too much practice. I am the member of a brilliant writing group and write a short piece for them every so often. A friend recently pointed out that other people might like to read these short pieces.
This piece was an attempt at ‘Flash Fiction’, write a story in 350 words or less, with a beginning a middle and an end.


Blue Eyes – by S.F. Burgess


Blue eyes met hers as she perused potatoes. He smiled. Not the absent, late night shoppers empty pleasantry, but a warm attempt at connection. She held his gaze, flattered, until the responsibility reminder, sleeping in its carrier in the trolley, gave a murmuring chunter. With a small, tired, apologetic smile, she moved towards dairy produce.

It was late when she escaped fake fluorescent day, crossing the car park towards her Volvo. Regretting her distant, badly lit choice of car parking spot, she moved quickly. The trolleys annoying rattling disturbed the baby. She stopped, trying to soothe. Alive four days, already making her feel incompetent.
Are those footsteps? Are they coming towards me? Are other cars parked this far out?
Vision yet to adjust to the dark, she froze, suddenly, irrationally, terrified. ‘Get to the car!’ Her brain screamed. ‘It’s safe.’
Violently shoving the trolley forward with one hand, she used the other to fumble for keys, scraping the trolley against the car in her haste, two attempts to open the door. Heart hammering, knowing heavy footfalls were advancing. Panting in fear, chest tight, she flung shopping into the trunk. Scrambled into the driver’s seat. Door closing, hand forcing the door lock down.

Safe!

Gulping breaths, trying to calm herself.

Bang!

Blue eyes came from nowhere, hands slamming, palms down onto her side window. She screamed, frantically ramming key into ignition, engine roaring to life. The car moved forward. The man yelled, chasing her. Running hard, legs pumping, he cut across, pulling parallel, stopping in front of her, hands held out, signalling stop.

Do I run him over?

She couldn’t and stood on the break. Something heavy scrapped metal across the car roof, shot over her, large, pink. He caught it, the force knocking him to the ground, pain creasing his face.

Shocked, she stared into blue eyes, then at the baby carrier in his arms, her baby, howling within it.