2024 is a Leap Year. So, this year the Solihull Writers Group chose Leap Year as the theme for our Creative Fiction competition.
I did a bit of research on the subject as it was too easy to go down the clichéd route of female marriage proposals etc. I read some interesting stuff about the 29th of February sometimes presenting a unique challenge from a legal perspective and it historically being seen as a day when usual conventions do not apply. Hence the idea of women being able to propose to men.
I took this idea a little further and played with the idea of the 29th February being a day that didn’t count. A day when people could do anything they liked and get away with it. A bit like The Purge movies.
I asked a few women friends what they would do with a day that didn’t count. this. One said that she would ‘Get a gun. Rob a bank. Buy a house and hold the solicitor at gunpoint to make him complete all the paperwork that day’.
That was the idea finally inspired my story .
I didn’t win. I was beaten on the day by some other outstanding entries that you will soon be able to read on our web-site.
Here is mine…
(P.S. we had a word limit of 1000)
The Day That Doesn’t Count
Mel yawned as she pressed the Double Expresso button and waited for her coffee. Too late, she realised she hadn’t lined the cup up properly and she swore as scalding liquid hissed and spurted over her fingers when she adjusted its position.
“Bad day?”
Mel jumped and more hot coffee sloshed over the back of her hand. Dione from accounts, of the caterpillar eyebrows and scarlet talons was standing behind her.
“No worse than any other,” Mel grumbled as she took her coffee and stepped aside to let Dione get to the machine, wondering how the woman had managed to creep up like that without her noticing. The coffee machine was situated at the end of the chrome and glass corridor that looked over parklands surrounding the building. The corridor had been empty when she’d come out and she hadn’t heard the soft swoosh of any office doors opening.
But Dione was here, smelling faintly of incense and tobacco, long thick hair unnaturally black, fully made-up even at this ungodly hour. Mel was still wearing the remnants of yesterday’s clumpy mascara and hadn’t had time to straighten her auburn curls which were gradually morphing into an explosion of frizz. She already had a ladder in her tights where Zack’s backpack had caught them as she got the kids into the car.
“Oh dear, that sounds bad.” Dione pouted in what Mel could only imagine was her much-practised Instagram sympathy pose.
“Yeah, well two kids under five, an absent jerk of a baby-Daddy, being two months behind with your rent and waking up to a humongous gas and electric bill will do that to you I suppose,” Mel snapped, as she sprinkled sugar into her cup.
Dione’s face darkened. She raised her eyebrows and held Mel’s gaze.
“It doesn’t have to be like that you know,” her tone was molten lava.
“What doesn’t?” Mel was irritated. She needed to get back to her desk. She turned away.
“Your life. It doesn’t have to be like that. You have…options.” Dione raised her voice. Only slightly, but enough to pique Mel’s interest and make her turn back.
“What options?” she said, in spite of herself.
“You do know it’s a leap year, don’t you? That it’s the 29th of February tomorrow.”
“Yeah. So what?”
“You know,” Dione gently tapped the side of her nose with the tip of one long red fingernail. “The day that doesn’t count.”
“No, I don’t know! Honestly, I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about.”
“The 29th of February. It’s the day that doesn’t count. 365 legit days in a year but this one is extra. Like a bonus day. A day when you can break all the rules. Do anything you want. It’s what the whole idea of women proposing to men is based on. Breaking conventions. No regrets. No repercussions.”
Dione was bright now. The darkness of before, melted away. Mel wondered if she had imagined her previous sinister air. The woman was harmless. Bonkers but harmless.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mel said.
“I’m not! I’m completely serious! I’ve been celebrating it for a while now. We all have.”
“We?”
“Me and my friends. Other women. Like us.”
“What do you mean, ‘celebrating’?”
“You know. Doing stuff.”
“No, I don’t know! What sort of stuff?”
Dione looked around theatrically before she moved in close to whisper in Mel’s ear.
“Taking what we want. Doing what we want. Righting wrongs. Exacting revenge. Sex. Drugs. Violence…” – she lowered her voice even more – “Murder.”
“Jesus!” Mel gasped.
“Cool huh!” Dione was grinning now and again Mel wondered if she had imagined some of what she’d said. “So, what would you do?”
“Me!” Mel took a step back from the other woman, looking her up and down with unconcealed indignation. “Nothing! Are you insane? I’d never do stuff like that. Whether it counted or not. You’ve got me all wrong.”
“Have I? Are you sure about that? You can’t tell me there’s nothing bad you’d do if you thought you could get away with it. You must have at least thought about it. Fantasised about it. We all have.”
“No. Not me.”
“Ok. So, think about it now. Go on. Just go with me for a minute. For fun. For the hell of it. If you could do anything you wanted, and it wouldn’t count, what would you do. There must be something! Your life can’t be that perfect!”
“It’s not. Of course, it’s not. I think you know that already.”
“So come on then. Let your imagination run riot. Humour me.”
Dione smiled encouragingly but something flicked behind her eyes that made Mel cold for a moment. For the first time in the interaction, she felt fear. She forced her face into a tight smile. Made the decision to humour the woman and get back to work.
“So,” Mel took a deep breath. “I’d get a gun. Rob a bank. Buy a house and hold the solicitor at gunpoint to make him complete all the paperwork that day.”
Dione laughed. “There we have it. That’s more like it. That’s my girl!”
Mel walked back towards her office.
“Is that it? Is that all?” Dione called after her.
“Oh yeah, and I’d murder my jerk of a baby Daddy,” Mel called back over her shoulder.
She went back to her desk with Dione’s laughter ringing in her ears.
She sat down at her desk.
She started to type.
The words in her browser bar read:
How to buy a gun?
jswritingservices.com 