Let’s work on that dialogue!

My last post was an entry for the Speakeasy #148 writing contest, incorporating, among other things, the line ‘no one could ever know what happened here.’ I enjoyed writing the post, but found it a challenge. Flash Fiction is always difficult for me; creating a story in a limited number of words. I tend to ramble, especially during the first few edits! It’s the second contest I’ve entered at the Speakeasy and I noticed the absence of dialogue in both pieces. Whilst I don’t think anything was taken away from the story, it’s something I need to work on.

With that in mind, I decided to have a little fun, and write a dialogue only piece incorporating the original prompt. The characters took on a life of their own, and the process was very rewarding. I decided to share it with you.

I hope you like it.

The Fall Guy

“Why do I get the feeling you don’t want to be here?”

“Oh, I don’t know…maybe because I don’t.”

“Then why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you here, idiot?”

“Well, if you’re going to call me names.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not. You always call me an idiot.”

“And you always avoid the subject.”

“So now I’m an idiot and I’m predictable.”

“Add annoying to that list.”

“I came here to support you and this is the thanks I get.”

“Was that really so hard?”

“Being here, or admitting why I’m here.”

“Don’t be facetious.”

“Don’t be a smart-ass.”

“Whatever. I appreciate it all the same.”

“Now you’re talking in riddles.”

“I’m trying to thank you.”

“I don’t need your thanks.”

“I know…don’t tell me. That’s what friends are for.”

“Thankfully the job doesn’t include scapegoat.”

“That’s just cruel.”

“Think about where we are. That wasn’t even in the vicinity.”

“You didn’t have to come.”

“Let’s not start that again. If I didn’t visit you who would?”

“True enough.”

“Do me a favour though, next time…try not to do the right thing.”

“You think?”

“I hate these places. They make me itch. So much noise, and metal.”

“Be careful, that was almost poetic.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do. I live here.”

“It’s not so bad is it?”

“I don’t know how to answer that.”

“Oh, come on. Now I don’t want to leave.”

“You don’t have much choice.”

“You’ve got me there.”

“Don’t worry. It isn’t all bad.”

“That was almost convincing.”

“No, seriously. I have my own room, four square meals a day, etc. etc.”

“Do you think they write that on the pamphlet?”

“Like someone would choose to be here.”

“I think you’d be surprised.”

“You’re an idiot, you know that.”

“So you keep telling me, yet you’re the one in here.”

“I have other friends, you know.”

“I doubt that. What’s your cell-mate like?”

“A bit of a wuss.”

“Define wuss.”

“She stitched a pattern above my bunk. So now I’m counting cotton, meant to look like stars.”

“And just think, you could have been counting money.”

“What was the reason again, for putting up with you I mean?”

“You can’t help yourself.”


“I’m sorry it came to this.”

“You know there was no alternative. Greg wouldn’t last five minutes here.”

“Yes, but when he said no one could ever know what happened here, he didn’t mean you had to take the fall.”

“I’m good at talking my way out of things. He isn’t.”

“Is that why you’re in here.”

“It’s why I’ll be out in six months instead of six years.”

“Fair point.”

“Do you think he’ll visit?”

“No. I think I’m the only friend you’ve got.”

“Now I’m really depressed.”

“There you go again.”

“Like you said, I can’t help myself.”

“You’re not so bad.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“You did a good thing. Despite what other people think. It counts for something. To me, to Greg and his family.”

“I don’t know what to say to that.”

“There’s a first.”

“Will you come again?”

“I’m not even going to answer that.”

“At least try harder next time.”

“You were always the one with the best poker face.”

“Just pretend we’re somewhere else.”

“It’s hard to think with all this noise.”

“I’ll book us a private room next time.”


“Not so much. I think that’s your cue to leave.”

“You’re kicking me out?”

“No. The guards are. It’s time.”

“See you next week then.”

“I’ll count the minutes.”

“Don’t you mean the stars?”



Before I go, I’d just like to add a welcome to all my new followers and show my appreciation for all the comments.

Thanks for reading.

Until next time.




I like it. Reminds me of two frenemy women spending too much time together. Isaac asimov wrote a lot of what was once called Postcard Fiction. He’d been challenged to write a complete story on the back of a postcard to send to his editor, as the story goes. It was published. Anyway, I write that sometimes. It can be very satisfying. A story that’s full and complete yet very brief. Thanks for this post.

You’re welcome 🙂 Thanks for the information on Isaac Asimov. It strikes fear in my heart, the thought of completing a story on a postcard (maybe if I write small!). But now I’m intrigued, and will definitely give it a go. Take care. Mel

Brilliant, writing dialogue is really something I need to work on and you’ve inspired me to give it a go now!

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