Dean & Lily – Episode 1

350 words
Dystopia, YA
Written by Audrey Francis-Plante

DEAN & LILY
Episode 1


The stench of flood and rotten apple is so strong I almost faint as I climb over the fence. I put on the mask they asked me to bring and step into the darkness of the orchard.

I grin.

The thick mud stains my new shoes, but I don’t care. This school year has to be good because A, I’m invited to the Troupe’s Initiation, and B, Dean isn’t. Continue reading “Dean & Lily – Episode 1”

Pieces of Advice That Are Slowly Fucking Up My Mind

Free writing, 254 words
Written by: Audrey Francis-Plante

Everyone’s priorities are different, but you have to think about money and work first.

You have to put everything you’ve got in your passion, and what’s your Plan B?

Be a strong and confident woman, but there are things that a girl just can’t do.

You’re a natural beauty, but you look so much better with make-up on.

Travel as much as you can while you can. Isn’t it time to settle down?

Don’t let others influence you, but why aren’t you more like him?

Have your own opinion, but if the majority thinks otherwise … Continue reading “Pieces of Advice That Are Slowly Fucking Up My Mind”

Pink Hair, Red Blood

This is an excerpt of a short story I’ve been working on lately, and I’d really like to know what you guys think of it!

370 words
Excerpt
Written by Audrey Francis-Plante

ONE

I didn’t want to believe it was true, but my brothers insisted it had worked on them so I had to see for myself.

Following their directions, I crossed the forest, made a left at the scarecrow, and spotted the cabin made of bones. They said to knock four times, once at each corner of the blue wooden door, so I did.

It opened. Continue reading “Pink Hair, Red Blood”

The Lying Lesson

96 words
Fiction
Written by: Audrey Francis-Plante

“I would like to apply for the job,” I said with a smile.

The girl popped the chewing gum balloon in her big mouth. “How old are you?”

“Fifty-two.”

She laughed. “How old are you really?”

“Seventy-nine,” I lied again.

My mother taught me some lies are polite, meant to keep people comfortable.

She leaned on the counter. “And what makes you want to work in a fast-food restaurant?”

“Well, I don’t have enough time left for slow food.”

She smiled, then said, “Sorry. We just hired someone.”

Apparently, her mother taught her the same lesson.

5 Reflections + Quotes on Travel

DSCF5873
The Bosnian Pyramids

 

5 of my Reflections

When I don’t like the girl that I am, I catch a plane and leave her behind. Not once have I come back from a trip the same as when I left.

 

 

Travelling is discovering new things, but also reminiscing about old dreams, and realizing they still matter.

 

Continue reading “5 Reflections + Quotes on Travel”

The Twin Gene

177 words
Short Story
Written by: Audrey Francis-Plante

They say the twin gene skips a generation, but in my family, it’s everywhere. My grandmother had a twin sister. My mother has a twin brother. I have a twin sister. And I’m pregnant of triplets.

“You’re not ready to be a mother,” my mom gently said when I announced it on Sunday brunch. “Especially not of three at once.”

I glanced at Sam for support; he’d just told me that morning I’d be the greatest mother, but then something weird happened. He wouldn’t look at me. He fixed my sister’s shoes. “Three’s a little overwhelming,” he mumbled.

“Very overwhelming,” my mother chimed in.

“Pardon me?” A silence followed my words.

I turned to my sister for help, but she was quiet too, holding a cushion to her belly.

The way Sam avoided my gaze hinted that he was ashamed. “Who is she?” Something broke inside of me when he didn’t defend himself.

“I’m sorry,” he replied. “But she’s pregnant too. Twins.”

Who is she? I suddenly hated our genes for making the answer so obvious.

The Puddle

106 words
Short Story
Written by Audrey Francis-Plante

An irritating noise in the other room—like a mouse nibbling paper—brings me to the door. A pungent scent infiltrates my nose when I open it, and I catch my distorted reflection in a puddle of water.

Here and there, the wood is wet, and crippled notes form a path to the kitchen. I take the first paper; a huge letter marks it. F.

I step forward and grab the next note. I.

The next. R.

Last. E.

FIRE.

“Who’s here?” I ask.

Scratch.

At the end of the hall, a lit match falls into a puddle, and I realize too late it’s no water.

The Valentine

184 words
Short Story
Written by Audrey Francis-Plante

I opened my locker to an abundance of heart-shaped chocolates and pink ribbons. My eyes were melting with anger. How dared he?

“Looks like Olivia’s got a Valentine,” my locker neighbour immediately teased as he saw the festive decoration. “Let me guess. Your cousin?” Patrick and his friends burst out laughing.

“Shut up,” I muttered.

“Or what? You’ll attack me with cinnamon hearts?” More laughs.

Before I knew it, my fist connected with Patrick’s jaw. He twirled around, hitting the trash full force. Specks of blood mottled the gray lockers. Girls yelped. Boys laughed that a girl—me of them all—had so easily knocked down the school’s biggest jerk.

I wasn’t allowed a second of satisfaction that the principal zoomed through the crowd, a beeline toward me. Great.

“My office, now,” he said, grabbing my arm to make sure I followed. “Did he hurt you?” he asked once in the office.

I lowered my eyes. “Not physically. Though he could’ve played like hell on the emotional level if he’d known whom the gifts were from.”

He cupped my cheek, smiling sheepishly. “Forgive me?”

Barcelona – My Old Self

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Day 107.
I don’t remember much about what I did in Barcelona, not even the travel fails. I remember a sun rather bright for the end of November.
I remember Park Güell.
I remember eating the best veggie burger ever, but I don’t remember where.
I remember a lot of pickpockets.
And the realization that my backpack didn’t seem heavy at all compared to Day 1, four months before.
But through these snippets of memories, I know I didn’t notice as much as I usually do, because I was too conscious of these travel days being my last. Continue reading “Barcelona – My Old Self”

Facebook Status in 2060

What will Facebook status updates look like in the year 2060? Imagine if our future children/grandchildren have all turned toward a new social platform but we’re still hooked on good old FB…

1. First Christmas with snow since 2020! #magic #luck #hope 

2. My grandkids in the pool #grandma’s lifestyle #family #fun

3. Amelia is going to an event: 50+ Slow-Dating

4. My daughter just had triplets, AGAIN! #kill me

5. Patrick’s wall: Martha and I are officially retired! First project: a lake house!

6. Martha’s wall: Thanks everyone for assisting to Patrick’s funerals. He would’ve appreciated. RIP Patrick. Love you still.

7. Watching Walking Dead. feeling nostalgic.


Continue reading “Facebook Status in 2060”

Just a Hunch

99 words
Short Story
Written by Audrey Francis-Plante

I don’t believe in these things,” he said, then sneezed. The array of candles and the dust made it exhausting to breathe.

“Me neither,” she answered. “I can’t promise I’ll read your future, but I promise I never lie.”

Reluctantly, he offered his hand. She snatched it with her eyes shut.

“Bad,” she said. “Mmm … very dark.”

“Dark?”

“Death. Dreadful. It awaits you.” She squeezed his hand, eyes fixating on him.

“Death? Wh–How? What did you see?”

“Nothing. I don’t believe in these things.”

“Then why did you say I’d die?”

“Just a hunch,” she said, pointing the gun.

If There Were No Laws

94 words
Short Story
Written by Audrey Francis-Plante

My father sat us three in the living room and said, “If I told you that tomorrow, every law expires. Everything is legal for one day. What would you do?”

My sister clapped her hands eagerly. “Easy. I’d rob a bank.”

“I’d steal Andy’s bike,” my young brother said. “And his PS4.”

“And you, Thomas,” Dad said. “Does my eldest also have the ambitions of a thief?”

“No,” I said, feeling my neck reddening.

“What would you do, then?”

I cleared my throat. “I’d marry Mark.”

Silence.

I guess they had to know eventually.

One Eye Open

98 words
Short Story
Written by Audrey Francis-Plante

I had been told to shut my eyes. In the dark, I listened to the noises they made. Whispering, breathing, rustling, dragging. I grew curious. When I heard a little gasp, I couldn’t help it. I split two fingers and slightly opened an eye.

A body lied awkwardly in a puddle of blood. The couple who’d brought me here worked on rolling the corpse inside a large bag. My eye must have glinted in the dark. “I gave you a chance,” the man told me.

“Why is he dead?” I asked.

He sighed. “Because he opened his eyes.”

That’s Not My Dog

I’m rather proud to say that I won a writing contest with this piece on the website The  Write Practice. The theme was First Meeting.

That’s Not My Dog
by Audrey Francis-Plante
1 441 words

“Good morning,” I say. “I need you to make this dog poop. Please.”

The receptionist spits the coffee back in her Harry Potter mug. Then she looks down at Aphrodite next to me. Like always, the stupid thing’s tongue wobbles all over the place.

“Okay,” the girl tells me, gingerly setting her mug on the desk, her eyes still on Aphrodite. I can only describe this dog in three words. Ugly. Fat. And ugly.

Continue reading “That’s Not My Dog”