I can’t think of anything to say today. This is an Inkwell Half-hour Challenge entry from earlier this year:
It all happened so fast. The whole thing was over in a matter of a few seconds. Now they’re calling me a hero and talking about rewards, contacting the local paper, all sorts of nonsense. I’m a bit embarrassed really. If I’d had time to think and decide a course of action, then they could be correct in their praise, I suppose. But it wasn’t like that. It was more like a knee-jerk reaction, automatic, as natural as blinking. I just realised immediately what needed to be done and I did it.
We come to Granny’s November 5th bash every year. The whole family is usually here: aunts, uncles, cousins: maybe a hundred of us all together. It’s generally good fun, lots of fireworks, a huge bonfire and lots of fantastic food. But there’s always one who makes a twat of himself and that one is almost always my cousin Billy. This year was no exception. I think he’s a bit simple, not quite the full shilling, but we’re not allowed to discuss it. I saw him come from behind the garage with the petrol can and that gormless grin of his, at a trot. I immediately put down my toffee apple. Then everything seemed to go into slow motion. I looked up from the apple in time to see him go sprawling as he trips over the lawn edge, launching a shower of petrol towards my sister Mary in the process. She’s doesn’t notice him or the petrol and is still waving her sparkler, writing her name in the dark. I grabbed the table-cloth and started to sprint towards her, leaving pots, food, drinks and Mother’s scream in my wake. Mary ignites with a huge “woof” a fraction of a second before I hit her and wrap her in the table cloth as we crash to the ground together. Neither of us suffered more than a slight scorch.
