WRITERS ABROAD MAGAZINE
Over The Rainbow Flash Fiction by Doreen Porter
Lottie thumped her desk in frustration. She'd muddled up two of the characters in her
short story. That's what comes of not putting everything on a spreadsheet, as one
member of her creative writing group did. Still, she could sort it. Ctrl, alt, delete —
that was right, wasn't it?
She shook her head. She must have had a senior moment; she felt quite lightheaded. Looking around, she became aware of her surroundings. Her cluttered
office had disappeared; she was sitting in what looked like a waiting room. Various
people, including a man dressed as a pirate, lounged around on functional chairs.
There was a coffee vending machine but nothing else, not even a picture to alleviate
the gloom. Everyone appeared bored. A tall, dark and handsome man approached
her. He coughed theatrically. ‘Sorry,’ said Lottie. ‘Do I know you?’ He gave a bitter
laugh. ‘I'm Brett. Brett D’Arcey. Stupid name, but that's your fault.’
‘Brett D’Arcey? But that's a character in the romance I'm writing — Sunset over
Sydney.’
‘I'm aware of that,’ responded Brett coldly. ‘Do you realise how long I've been
waiting outside the Opera House for you to decide whether my ex-girlfriend should
arrive on her own or with a friend? Three weeks!’
‘That's nothing,’ interrupted a stout middle-aged woman with a frizzy gray perm
and a hairy mole on her chin. ‘I've been stranded on a No 15 bus at Piccadilly Circus
for two months because she can't decide whether I should go shoplifting in Harrods
or jump under a Central Line tube at Marble Arch.’
‘I'm sorry.’ Lottie didn't really know what to say. ‘I expect you'd prefer the Harrods
scenario,’ she muttered.
‘Anything that gets me off that awful bus. Why I couldn't have got a taxi I'll never
know...’
Brett gave another theatrical cough. Lottie could see more characters
approaching.
‘If you could just move me somewhere a little more comfortable... A bar, a cafe. It
gets a bit chilly there at night sometimes,’ complained Brett.
Before Lottie could respond, a girl in her 20s with a tongue stud, a Punk hairdo
and a tattoo of a scorpion on her forehead prodded Lottie with a dirty, stubby finger.
‘I'm Rainbow in case you don't recognise me...’
Brett laughed. ‘As if anyone could forget you!’
Rainbow ignored him. ‘I want to ask her’ — she glared at Lottie — ‘why I ended
up as a stereotypical dropout. I've got a degree from Harvard, can fly helicopters and
10 | S e p t 2 0 1 4