30 Day Writing Challenge – Day Twenty – Supermarket

img_1205It’s day twenty of the Thirty Day Writing Challenge, and today’s prompt is: Supermarket.

I was going to write a little piece about how I have to go to the supermarket tomorrow, and how at this time of year it’s heaving with people pushing overloaded trolleys and looking perplexed, as though they’ve never been in a supermarket before. But then it dawned on me that I may also be one of those people tomorrow…

So instead I’ve decided to set a timer again and see what happens. Twelve minutes. Here we go:

‘Christ,’ I mutter under my breath, as I see the last packet of carrots being scooped up. ‘Bastard.’ I shoot daggers with my eyes at the broad back ahead of me, pushing my trolley faster, the wobbly wheel screeching in protest.

‘Sorry, sorry!’ I smile, although it’s more like baring my teeth as I manoeuver past two old ladies, trying to resist the urge to shove their trolleys out of the way with mine. But there is no way I’m letting him get the last packet of Extra Fine Baking Potatoes. I need those potatoes. He’s already got the damn carrots.

Victory! I screech to a rattling halt, breathing hard as I grasp the corner of the packet with my outstretched hand, managing to flick it into my trolley. ‘That’ll teach him,’ I thought, as I glimpsed a cable-knit jumper clad arm reaching around me. ‘Too late, haha!’

Not very Christmassy, I know. But really, it’s every man (and woman) for themselves in the supermarket at this time of year. The chocolate aisle looks as though it’s been attacked by locusts, the few sad roasts remaining puckered in their plastic wraps, as though they’ve been prodded by many hands.

And I only have one thing left on my list to get. Executing a skillful manoeuver, I manage to dodge around two trolleys, then bypass a third, sliding through a gap between two young men and a pile of boxes to emerge in the baking aisle. There they were.

Eggs. There weren’t many left, and those that were left were the eye-wateringly expensive organic free range kind, but I don’t care. Six eggs are all that stand between me and victory. I surge forward, reaching out, when a hand comes down, claiming a box. A hand at the end of a cable knit jumper clad arm.

‘Dammit!’ I may have shouted that out loud. Heads may have turned. But I was so close! Then I heard laughter, felt arms come around my waist, a trolley bumping gently against mine.

‘Too bad, darling. Looks like you’re paying this week. And so close to Christmas, as well. Well-played, though.’ He laughed again, but a nice kind of laugh, as he came around to survey the jumbled mess of groceries in my trolley.

‘Well, I don’t care,’ I said. ‘And, did I tell you how nice you look in that jumper?’

‘Flattery,’ he said, ‘will get you nowhere.’

‘Just wait till next week’s shop’, I thought.

Well, there you have it. Twelve minutes done. Not sure what to think of it, though.


If you enjoyed this post, you can find me on Twitter @AuthorHelenJ,  Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. Plus my latest book release, A Thousand Rooms, is now available on Amazon.

30 Day Writing Challenge – Day 5 – This Road

img_3661It’s Day 5 of the 30 Day Writing Challenge. I’ve been a bit short on time today, so I decided to set a timer and write this post, using the prompt: This Road.     I like writing to a timer – it’s a clear window of time in which I’m allowed to do nothing except write, and I find it a great way to get things moving if I’m stuck on a project.

I gave myself seven minutes (I told you, busy day), and this is what I came up with:

‘So is it this road? Or that road?’

‘I dunno. Bloody satnav.’ He tapped on it, hard, as though it might make the crossroads we sat at magically appear on the little screen. But all it showed was a single straight road going on to a dead end. The voice, like a robotic Eric Bana, kept repeating ‘You have reached your destination.’

‘No we bloody well haven’t!’ I shouted, frustrated by the calm Aussie twang. ‘For god’s sake, can we change the voice on that thing?’

‘Okay love, calm down. We can figure this out. Where did she say she was staying again?’

‘A farmhouse. Set back from the road, but she said when we got there we’d be able to see the driveway. But there’s no bloody driveway and it’s getting dark and I’ve no idea whether it’s this road or that road!’

‘Can you ring her?’

‘No signal.’ I waved my phone around in a futile attempt to pick up something, anything, but we might as well have been on Mars for all the coverage I was getting.

‘Right. Well. I’m going left.’

‘Left? Why left?’ I said as he turned the wheel, the car starting to swing around. ‘Oh for god’s sake!’ I shouted again, as Eric reminded us that we had reached our destination. I pushed the button on the top of the satnav then disconnected the suction cup from the windshield, resisting the temptation to throw the whole thing out the window.

‘Why not left?’ he replied. ‘Besides, we’ll hold up traffic if we sit here any longer.’

‘What traffic?’ I huffed. There was nothing to be seen but long fields and dark trees, silhouetted against a purpling sky. No ancient stone farmhouse, no welcoming light, nothing. We were lost.

It’s a little bit rough, but not too bad considering the time frame. As to whether they’ll ever get to their destination, I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll find out during another prompt…

——————————————————————————————
If you enjoyed this post, you can find me on Twitter @AuthorHelenJ,  Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. Plus my latest book release, A Thousand Rooms, is now available on Amazon.