Once a month the Australian Writers Centre runs a short story competition and here was my entry for February, 2024! Here were the necessary inclusions for this competition:
- Your story’s first sentence must include something being POPPED.
- Your story must include a character who references a FILM title.
- Your story must include the words LEAP, BOTTLE and SHADOW.
High Society
By Jess Knaus
The Old Money sat like moss-covered stones in the deep, studded leather chairs, observing the style with which the lead waiter opened the first bottle of prosecco. Despite not displaying the same elegance that Hutchins would have exuded, this young fellow performed adequately and collectively the elders had agreed that he could stay. The young New Money mingled around the edge of the room like birds flitting for attention. Despite their eagerness, impressions mattered. The wrong impression brought about the wrong kind of invitation – an invitation to leave.
Cigars, fur and pearls criss-crossed like an elegant ballet not choreographed, but in sync with the quartet playing in the far corner of the room. The ladies glided whilst the gentlemen steered, but above all, the room and everyone in it was acceptable. Roger, who straddled the line between the New and the Old, was one of the accepted.
Mrs Brown, the heiress of Thornbury and daughter of a large coal-mining magnate, drifted to his side, watching the young ones angle themselves in order to catch the best lighting.
‘Who do you think, Mrs Brown?’, Roger asked, eyeing the edges of the room at the potential candidates.
‘“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn”,’ she replied with a twinkle in her eye.
‘“Gone With The Wind”, too easy Marjory,’ he replied, smiling.
‘You’re far too clever, Roger, as always,’ she laughed jovially.
They continued to observe the young ones, who were trying their hardest to remain stately as they mingled around the large dining hall.
‘It’s not a leap if you know the tune,’ she said, winking towards young Clara, ‘she’ll follow her father’s shadow. Mark me.’
‘That I’ll do’, Roger replied.
At that moment Roger’s gaze was stolen by a flash of deep purple, at the far end of the room. There, glowing and resplendent, was a woman – a woman he did not know. His locked attention caught her eye, and she returned the look with a nod of acknowledgement.
‘Who’s that, Marjory?’, he asked, nodding in the woman’s direction.
To Marjory’s own surprise, she did not know.
‘You know I have no idea. How remarkable,’ she exclaimed.
Roger stepped away and wandered down the room towards her, side-stepping groups of chit chat and passing waiters. He was just seconds from reaching her side when someone grabbed his arm and led him away.
‘Roger!’
He looked up at the owner of the hand to discover his friend, Percy.
‘Don’t do it lad, she’s a spy,’ he explained quietly, away from prying ears.
‘A spy?’, he asked. Percy nodded.
Suddenly the crowd shrieked, and the loud crack of a pistol echoed around the room. Heads ducked, the party-goers fled and Roger stood agape as the woman in purple looked towards him, a smoking pistol in her hand. Their eyes remained locked on each other, until one last bullet escaped and Roger fell to the ground, darkness filling his eyes.
Image by: Angel Renee
Jess Knaus 
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