Recently, members of Wokingham Writers Group were challenged to write … and write they did.
The Ship Inn was the venue for the judging of the contest, on the theme It’s A Game Of Cat and Mouse.
For the second year running, Tom Williams won the competition with The Contract.
Guest judge Julie Cohen’s comment was “Atmosphere, setting, misdirection, and a huge amount of plot telescoped expertly into under 300 words — this is an impressive piece of flash fiction. The pacing is great and the dialogue is spot-on, and the Kaffee and Küchen line is just perfect.”
Tom is a psychologist who has published in the past on a variety of subjects including Special Needs and Mental Health, and is now looking to become known as a writer of fiction.
Highly commended were Liz Godwin with It Took a Fiver and David Maynard with A Game of Cat and Mouse – we’ll print their entries over the coming weeks.
Wokingham Writers are a friendly group of individuals with a common interest in creative writing.
Members range from keen hobbyists to aspiring novelists and published authors. The group supports and encourages members with their writing projects, large or small.
Meetings are held on the third Saturday of each month. In happier days, meetings were in Wokingham Library but are currently being held via Zoom.
Anyone interested should contact the chairman, Jenny Richardson (jenny.gpem@gmail.com) or ask in Wokingham Library.
Julie Cohen is a well-known author who grew up in Maine and studied English at Brown University, Cambridge University and the University of Reading. Her award-winning novels have sold over a million copies worldwide, and she has twice been selected for the Richard and Judy Book Club in the UK.
She is also a sessional lecturer at the University of Reading and a patron to ABC To Read.
For more on her, visit: www.julie-cohen.com
The Contract
Miller looked across Stephansplatz to the great doors of the cathedral. Twenty years ago Russians and Germans had been killing each other here, now there was Kaffee and Küchen.
The target, a swarthy man in his fifties, crossed the square and entered the cathedral. Miller followed as he took the stairs to the basement. Apart from a nun praying in the Ducal crypt, it was deserted.
The target walked through the crypts and deep into the catacombs. He walked briskly as if he had an appointment, and in a way he did. Finally he stepped into an ossuary room. Miller followed him.
“More than 11,000 bodies down here.” The target stood looking at a neat wall of skulls, his back to Miller.
“Indeed,” said Miller, feeling for the loop of parachute cord in his jacket sleeve.
“Are you going to draw your garrotte? It’s your trademark, isn’t it? Don’t bother.” The target turned. In his hand was a Walther with silencer. “It was me who took out the contract. I set the time, the place, I stipulated the garrotte. “
“Why?”
“So I could be sure you would be the one they sent. How else could I kill the hitman who killed my son?”
“I run this city, the drugs, the prostitution, the gambling. Everything. You don’t fly into my city, kill my boy and fly out again. The scum who hired you are feeding the fish in the Danube.” His teeth were yellow and uneven. “Now it’s your turn.”
Two muffled shots and the target fell like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Miller glanced down at him. “You didn’t kill him.”
“The contract specified garrotte, you should finish the job,” said the ‘nun’ stepping through the doorway.
“Of course,” said Miller, gripping the cord.
Tom Williams
