Third prize was snatched by Barbara Weeks for her blood-splatter-patterned romantic flash.
A Sawn-off Shotgun Wedding
She was still in the wedding dress- vintage – something old, new, borrowed, blue. Splatters of red also, blood and mud.
‘The policy only covers for wine stains, loss in transit…’ I said.
‘You sure?’ She laid the shotgun (borrowed, I assumed), on the counter and checked the small-print. ‘So I’ve lost the deposit?’
She swore (blue), and then said:’look, I’ve had a bad day!’
‘Me to,’ I said.
‘Really?’ she sounded surprised.’Did you just shoot your groom at the reception then?’ She adjusted her tiara (new).
‘I’m not married,’ I said.
‘Did you destroy the cake… ruin your dress…’
‘Our dress actually…you hired it…’
‘… or get chased by a mob…across a muddy field …’
‘No, but I did have to hit a customer over the head with a sawn-off shotgun…’ I said, ‘…policy doesn’t cover for that either.’