A challenge I couldn't resist:

The challenge: an adventure, a teashop in the forest and a teddy bear!!

I hope you have had a great weekend. If you’re exhausted, take five minutes and read this month’s story.

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WE DIDN’T WIN, BUT IT WAS CLOSE

The car screams to a halt, dust and dirt circling. When the air clears, I query “Why are we here after a nightmarish race from home?” My heartbeat thumps in my ears.

The sign above the door of the cafe reads “Maid Marian’s Olde Teashop”. We are in Sherwood Forest, on the edge of Nottingham. Aaron had grabbed me, pulled me into the car with a “Quick, come now. This is our chance to win.”

To get here he ran a red light, and drove at speed across the large roundabout, instead of circling it, at the Five Crossroads intersection: all the time swearing at the Sunday drivers impeding our progress.

“And why on earth are you clutching your teddy bear. You look ridiculous. You’re thirty, not three.” I extricate my legs from the slow-slung vehicle.

He grins, his auburn curls jammed mostly under a cap, his freckled cheeks raised above a wide grin and says, “Because, beloved, this is our chance to win a holiday. It’s just been announced on the radio. I’m here as Christopher Robin, with Pooh Bear. Everyone has to meet here, and the most realistic costume will get a free weekend in Blackpool. Spot prizes too.”

“I hear Blackpool is over-rated. Looking tired. The pier is shabby,” I mutter as we traipse in and queue. Seems there are a lot of others aiming to win and there are some weird costumes.

The entrance doors sigh repeatedly as people arrive and then a guy bursts in with a gun. “Stick ‘em up!” he yells. “This is a hold-up!” He waves a pistol about, randol;y pointing it at customers. Somebody laughs. The lady behind the counter screams and faints. The waitress ducks out through a door marked ‘kitchen’. Aaron shout’s “Bravo. Great gig,” and passes me the bear. He walks up to the man and takes the gun, to look at it. “Love your style. Is this real?” and peers down the barrel. The gunman, about to grab the gun back, stiffens at the sound of a high-pitched wail.

A police-siren breaks the tension. The gunman looks frantically around muttering, “That was quick.” then shouts, “Who rang the police? I’ll kill ‘em.” He makes to grab the gun but Aaron realisings this man is not part of the contest, tosses the gun to me. Luckily, I have good reflexes. He wraps his arms around the offender, wrestling him to the floor and sits on him. Did I mention Aaron is quite large? His enthusiastic following of ‘Late-Night Wrestling’ is finally paying off.

The assembled crowd claps and we all turn as the police burst through the doors which sigh louder than ever after the last policeman squeezes past the end of the queue.

“Hurrah for the boys in blue,” someone shouts.

“Great timing,” shouts another.

“Where’s that speeding maniac?” demands the officer. “He’s driving the red sports car parked outside. We’ve had complaints. His registration number was reported.”

I cough, politely, and point to Aaron. I told him not to speed.

A woman protests, “You can’t arrest him. He’s a hero!”

“He’s just disarmed a gunman and saved us all,” shouts another.

“What’s a bit of speeding between friends?”

Handcuffs are clicked on the prone man. Aaron rises and bows to the crowd, ever the showman.

“That’s your entertainment for today, folks,” he says.

One officer takes Aaron aside for a stern talking to and I hand the gun to the another. Now I’m standing there looking stupid, holding a Teddy Bear.

Life has its moments, living with Aaron and his passion for contests.

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I write over a wide range of genre. My books are available here: https://www.amazon.com/author/derynpittar