( Ten Cent Pistol )

In a stunning turn of fate, I finished a story on time to be submitted for a competition. The National Arts Festival announced the "Short Sharp Stories Award" for South African short story fiction. The word count was between 3500 - 5000, the story had to be set in this lovely country of ours and the theme was crime. The story is called Ten Cent Pistol. An extract, then:

Jules stopped the car. “We’re here,” she said quietly. I didn’t get out just yet, turning to look at Tabi in the back seat, her face expressionless. I listened to the music playing in the car. One of those bands that Jules liked that none of us had ever heard before. A twanging man sang: she hit them with her ten cent pistol, because they ruined her name…

“What’s a ten cent pistol?” Tabi suddenly asked. It was the first time she had spoken since all of this had begun.

“It’s a lethal combination of poisons, most often used for revenge. People better watch their step, or else they’ll get a ten cent pistol.” Jules’ voice was monotone as she explained, but her grip was tight on the wheel of the car. I just nodded at her and we got out.

Whoever told you it is difficult to kill, lied. If you’re killing for all the right reasons, then it’s very, very easy.

It was harder to write than I anticipated. In fact, when it got down to the nitty-gritty, it felt almost painful. But, when life hands you a platform, you get up and speak. I'm no crime writer - my heart lies in fantasy and science-fiction.  But the rules are the rules.

I wrote it in the first person, trying for a kind of film noir narrative. I also glamourised what would be called naked vigilantism to make a point. It feels Tarantino-esque, to a degree: extreme violence and the underlying story, which has always been about vengeance. It take a hard look at a problem eating away at society and it pulls absolutely no punches.

After the fourth edit (the end of a long and somewhat painful process), I was very, very happy. Here's hoping the judges are too.