AnElephantCant always be funny
Sometimes he enjoys being mysterious
But this piece is neither
It builds up to a fever
He hopes that it is not too serious
This is a weekly invitation to write a short piece of fiction (c. 150 words) based on a photo prompt (below) provided by Alastair.
The link takes you to great stories by some great writers.
But please read AnElephant’s gritty fiction noir first.
And don’t be too scared!
The Clockwork Orange is the local name for Glasgow’s underground rail system.
The Clockwork Orange
The train thunders into Partick station.
They board it with barely concealed relief, find seats without difficulty, and sit close together, holding hands.
They scan the other passengers carefully, a surreptitious nudge drawing attention to this one or that.
There is no sign of trouble.
The man relaxes, his companion is still excited, almost hyper-active.
Their interlocked hands are a source of comfort to both.
The man points upwards with his right index finger.
We must be under the river by now. Can you remember what it is called?
The River Clyde.
He nods with apparent satisfaction, and leans back, reading the adverts.
A tug on his arm brings his gaze down to their reflections in the windows opposite, and the concerned look on the face he loves above all others.
Why is it called The Clockwork Orange, grandpa?