Hi all,
here’s the latest piece of writing prompt fiction for you. I managed to completely miss one of my five prompts despite setting it up twice. Can you guess which word I wanted to include? Find out below!
The wing shook. Maggie’s stomach dropped with the plane. She squeezed the armrest, the blue vinyl damp under her palm. The night flight was approaching London. The sun was up, pale rose and sharp yellow rays of light shining off the reflective surfaces on the wing. So many different pieces of metal, joined or screwed together. The flaps didn’t look secure. She hated when they lifted: they let too much air through.
The guy beside her was large but didn’t try to hog both armrests. On the other side was his wife. They didn’t talk. Both read newspapers. The Financial Times for her, the Observer for him. The rest of the plane was dark. People slept, hugging themselves under the fleecy blankets that had been handed out. The stewardess in Business Class was visible as she moved around.
The seat in front of her jerked upright as the seat belt light dinged.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please return to your seats. Fasten your seat belts and stow all tables.”
She tucked her notebook and plastic orange Garfield pen – a Mother’s Day present – into the seat beside her leg and clicked the table into position. The mechanism was stiff and she had to push hard.
The man turned around to stare at her. He had large blue eys and wild white hair. Grumpy because he’d just woken up. She smiled in apology. He smiled back then showed her his hand. Shaped into a gun, pointed at her.
Pow.
She hated flying.
On the ground she managed to get in front of him at the immigration queue. She pushed her passport under the safety glass to the officer. With a little note. She looked as scared as she could.
Help. The man behind me has a gun.
The officer nodded, waved her through.
She saw him pick up his walkie-talkie as the grumpy man walked to the window, scowling impatiently.
The prompts were:
reflective
ray
hug
writing
gun
The word “writing” never made it into the piece. Despite the main character having their notebook and Garfield pen ready on the drop down tray on the plane. And having had written to the custom’s officer at the end. D’oh!
