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Out of the Frying Pan… The Reluctant Rescue of Jack Fairchild

The moon finally peeked from behind the clouds as the dogs trotted on across the dark, windswept moorland, scattering powdery snow with their tails. The pilot (perhaps called ‘Jack’, but he wasn’t entirely sure) limped along, looking up every so often and cursing the white disc above him. His memory had deserted him, he was frozen to the core, rigid with pain, and beholden to the silent, dour giant of a man beside him. The crash would never have happened on a clear night. He would have made it to wherever the hell he was meant to be… Continue reading Out of the Frying Pan… The Reluctant Rescue of Jack Fairchild

INSPIRATION: The Saturday Girl

I was a Saturday Girl once. There was a small cafe in our small town, made popular by a long-running TV series. So many girls from school undertook their job-baptism of fire here, and the kitchen was a seething microcosm of alliances, hostilities and hormones, interspersed with coke floats and cheese and pickle sandwiches.

Saturday Girl

INSPIRED

They pushed me to the top of the stairs and handed me a torch.

“Go on,” said the girl called Suzanna, “They’re on the top shelf.”

I peered down. It was pitch black at the bottom. The light from the cafe filtered down, reducing with every step. I flicked the torch on and gritted my teeth.

This was clearly the beginning of some kind of war.

“Come on, new girl.”

An hour into the job and I was already losing.

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