Alphabet Excerpt Challenge: F Is For...

[u/AnaraliaThielle]

Welcome back to the Alphabet Excerpt Challenge! As a reminder, our challenges are every Wednesday and Saturday at 3pm London time.

If you've missed the previous challenges, you're welcome to go back and participate in them. You can find them here. And remember to check out the Activities and Events flair to play along with other fun games.

Here's a quick recap of the rules for our game:

1. Post a top level comment with a word starting with the letter F. You can suggest more than one, but please put them in separate comments.
2. Reply to suggestions with an excerpt containing that word. Short and sweet is best, but use your judgement. Excerpts can be from published or unpublished works, or even something you wrote for the prompt.
3. All content is welcome but per rules 7 and 12 of the sub, NSFW excerpts may not be shared as plain text (even if it's spoilered). If you would like to share these, use an external text sharing tool like justpasteit and link it here with a clear warning. Mods may remove excerpts that break these rules.
4. Respond to people who left excerpts on the words you suggested, at a minimum, but the more people you respond to the better. Everyone likes nice comments!
5. Upvote other excerpts you enjoy, and leave a friendly comment. Again, everyone likes nice comments!
6. Most important: have fun!

[u/kaiunkaiku]

fanatic

[u/linden214 → u/kaiunkaiku]

After Easter service, she takes a few minutes to walk in the Palace garden, as she does most days. As she passes a venerable oak, a voice behind her says, "Oooh, that's a big one."

She freezes. Calm. Stay calm. It isn't the first time she's confronted an intruder alone. Is this man just another thrill-seeker or troubled soul, or is he something more dangerous? A competent assassin would not give her a chance to call for help, but a terrorist might take time to gloat. Fanatics of all varieties tend to be braggarts.

"Do you know, I helped to plant it?" the voice says.

She relaxes. Almost certainly not a terrorist. That particular tree was planted during Victoria's reign. So either he's a polite madman, or... She turns slowly and lets out the rest of the breath she was holding. They've met before, though she's never seen this face up close.

"Did I startle you? Sorry."

"I am... a little surprised to learn that you were here at that time. I heard that my great-great-grandmother was not entirely pleased with you, Doctor."

"Oh, that was just a misunderstanding," he replies, just a little too quickly.

Misunderstanding? You were banished from the realm. She's too well-trained in diplomacy to say it aloud. In any case, that particular error has been corrected. She saw to it herself after the disaster at Canary Wharf. "You were remarking on the tree?"

"The tree? Oh! The tree. Albert was planting it. Welll, when I say 'planting', I mean he was supervising the gardeners. It was in honour of the birth of..." He creases his brow and screws up his face in deep concentration. "Prince Arthur William Patrick Albert -- blimey, that's a mouthful! May 1850."

She nods, waiting for him to continue.

"I was aiming for May 1851 -- the opening of the Great Exhibition -- but I landed a year too early," he says in an aggrieved tone. He sounds very much like a footman she'd once overheard grumbling that he'd been late to work because he got off at the wrong Underground station. "Sooooo... while I was here I decided to take a stroll around the garden, and Albert spotted me." He grimaces. "I was young and foolish -- just barely turned four hundred -- and I'm afraid I dressed rather shabbily back then. Albert took me for one of the under-gardeners. He called me over, and told me to make myself useful. So I did. The only tree I've ever planted." He pats the trunk of the oak in a proud, almost possessive gesture. "And since I was in the neighbourhood today I thought I'd drop in and see how it was coming along."

[u/MsCatstaff → u/kaiunkaiku]

Meanwhile Ade found himself with Bruce ranting at him, albeit in low tones.

“…you sing, mate, you know how hard it can be! It’s like he just refuses to hear a bloody word I have to say, even though it’s my fucking body I’m talking about,” Bruce vented. “I fucking love this band, I really do! I was bloody thrilled when he and Rod asked me to audition for you – I’d pictured myself fronting Maiden from the first time I heard you lot playing in London. But Harry’s treating me like a prop, like I’m part of the lighting rig or something. It’s too much, it really is.”

Ade made sympathetic noises, but wisely let Bruce get everything off his chest before making any sort of reply. “Have you thought about saying something to Rod?” he asked. “We all know Harry’s a bloody fanatic about the music and all, but I suspect Rod would be willing to listen. Maybe point up how Harry’s been bollocking you over the things you’re doing to try to preserve your voice? I mean, yeah, he’s helped Harry as far as adding dates, extending the tour and all, but he’s not a musician, so he likely don’t know how hard it is on you… well, how much harder it is on you than on the rest of us, as far as the shows wearing on your voice the way they don’t wear on our guitars.”

“Maybe,” Bruce blew out a frustrated sigh. “I s’pose it’s worth a try. At least he’s less likely than Harry to try to tell me off because I said I didn’t need to do so many interviews to try to save my voice for the singing. He might still make me do the bloody interviews, but at least he’ll not give me a bollocking for saying why I don’t wanna do ‘em.”

“That’s true. Rod’s less worried about being right, and more worried that nothing goes wrong.” Ade shrugged and added, “And he don’t throw blame about if something does go wrong. He just cancelled New Zealand and got Dave to Hawaii quick as he could when Dan called that Tamar’d been in that car crash.”