As part of the first-ever Leeds Lit Fest, nine #foundfiction writers co-authored a short story in a Twitter thread. They took turns to add to the thread one tweet at a time in an event which played out in real time over social media. Together they created a genuinely brilliant story. Read it and find out more about the authors below.
If you want to make Tweeting a Tale part of your event or festival, get in touch.
Roxy and me were way beyond words & this job wasn’t for the faint hearted. I guess I just got to know too much too soon. You’ve got to be slow to survive this industry. Float gently away like flotsam & that’s not likely. So are my colleagues happy or sad for me? Who knows? [AH]
— Tweeting a Tale (@tweetingatale) March 4, 2019
I stopped at the first receptacle encountered, turned the walkie talkie off, placing it in the peaked cap, bundled them together with the high vis jacket, and disposed of the lot. I looked at the leaving card, considering whether to throw or keep it, sentimentally took hold.[JD]
— Tweeting a Tale (@tweetingatale) March 4, 2019
There was something of an abandoned air to it. The street in either direction was empty. The open rear door moved a little, as if in a breeze. There was a strong smell. A sharp, rancid odour that pinched the nose and caused the eyes to water. It seemed to come from inside. [AD]
— Tweeting a Tale (@tweetingatale) March 4, 2019
I’d be warned about the bodies. Rashid had said “Civil Enforcement Officers aren’t just about whacking tickets behind wipers, they’re an extra pair of eyes on the city.” That was after the third body had been found in a van down Holbeck. A mess of flesh and muriatic acid. [KL]
— Tweeting a Tale (@tweetingatale) March 4, 2019
I slowly pulled the door open. In the near darkness, there was a body wrapped in plastic. Stuck to it was a label. I looked closer. It wasn’t her. I retched. As I was about to turn around, I felt something sharp against my back, and I heard her voice. [AB]
— Tweeting a Tale (@tweetingatale) March 4, 2019
There was a pause; was she trying to work something out? Then I heard, ‘What? You!’ I turned to plead with her. There was a dark flash in my periphery, then nothing. I came to trussed up in the back of the moving van, Roxy in the cab yelling, ‘What could I do? She knows me!’ [MH]
— Tweeting a Tale (@tweetingatale) March 5, 2019
I focused on the bitterness of the rag – did it resemble citrus peel or was it more like wild chicory? I attempted to think of other tastes, ones that would transport me from this current predicament. The mature cheese and tomato sandwich, it never fails to take me back. [JD]
— Tweeting a Tale (@tweetingatale) March 5, 2019
‘Two rights, one left. Two rights, one left,’ I repeated, imagining I was telling the police when I got out. If I got out. Roxy got out the van and began yelling, but no one responded. I heard her Doc Martens crunching the gravel as she walked towards the back of the van. [TS]
— Tweeting a Tale (@tweetingatale) March 5, 2019
I scanned her face for some sign this was just a ridiculous, convoluted misunderstanding. Any minute now, the camera crew, the canned laughter. That relief. Who knows, maybe we could even talk about what went wrong? But that’s not what happened next. (SJD)
— Tweeting a Tale (@tweetingatale) March 5, 2019
I felt as if I was being remotely controlled like some kind of puppet. My mouth was so slack I could barely whisper let alone protest. My strings were cut at base. ‘Out’ she cried, hysteria building with every breath. Out – but where? [AH]
— Tweeting a Tale (@tweetingatale) March 6, 2019
This liminal space seemed familiar, but why I could not remember. Frogmarched to the dank entrance, expelling small clouds in the cold. I scanned the area through the pillowcase hood for clues. They left me cuffed to the gate. Footsteps receding. Left to contemplate my fate. [JD]
— Tweeting a Tale (@tweetingatale) March 6, 2019
The shrill noise went through me and I instinctively tried to cover my ears, forgetting about the handcuffs.
‘Ow. Shit.’
My brain played connect the dots, but before I could imagine a train hurtling towards me I heard it again. It was a scream; human, guttural and final. (TS)— Tweeting a Tale (@tweetingatale) March 6, 2019
I saw headlights flicker in the distance. A dark car sunk into view. A figure in silhouette, its head slowly turned towards me. The driver door clicked open. (SJD)
— Tweeting a Tale (@tweetingatale) March 6, 2019
A rag was across my eyes before I knew it. The cuffs were released. I sat on the floor. ‘Search her!’ They were gentle, patted me down, pulled the card from my pocket. ‘Just this, boss.’
‘The sign! Take her away.’ They lifted me up and to my horror carried me into the tunnel.[RD]— Tweeting a Tale (@tweetingatale) March 7, 2019
They sat me down and removed the rag from my eyes. It was time for me to take control. In the gloomy tunnel, still smiling, I fixed each man’s eyes until they blinked. Then I clapped, slowly. ‘Well done gentlemen, you’ve passed my test. I’m satisfied with your performance.’ [MH]
— Tweeting a Tale (@tweetingatale) March 7, 2019
Rashid lit a cigarette, fleetingly illuminating his face. Corny as ever. I weighed up the situation. Listening to the drops hitting the floor, drip music. I had located a loose brick; I began to work it free with my left hand, eyes locked on them. Him, him and then HIM. [JD]
— Tweeting a Tale (@tweetingatale) March 7, 2019
The crunching of a skull was a sound I wasn’t expecting and I only managed to hear it twice before I began wretching, dropping the brick in front of me.
‘I knew you didn’t have the stomach for this,’ Rashid said, as he kicked away my only weapon (TS)— Tweeting a Tale (@tweetingatale) March 7, 2019
‘Tell us what we need to know,’ Rashid said. Smoke mushroomed in my face. Or else, I thought and my stomach tightened. He presented me a box, small enough to contain a pair of earrings. But I knew it wasn’t earrings in the box (SJD)
— Tweeting a Tale (@tweetingatale) March 7, 2019
I mouthed slowly like some drunken Italian and I knew exactly what the box contained. Been there before. With a practised flick I put both box and cigarette into a spin where the explosion quickly followed. I seized my opportunity and ran. [AH]
— Tweeting a Tale (@tweetingatale) March 8, 2019
It was Roxy but I didn’t believe it at first. ‘This way’ she shouted, as she edged along the slope and back down to the tunnel entrance. There was no sign of anybody. ‘I know it looks bad,’ she said from the driver’s seat, ‘but I can explain.’ First, let’s get out of here. [RD]
— Tweeting a Tale (@tweetingatale) March 8, 2019
She slammed the car into gear and reversed back along the track at a disturbing speed. I hastily put my seatbelt on and grabbed the door handle for added false security. ‘It all began at the Pub Quiz World Cup last autumn,’ she began, backing onto the road and braking hard. [AD]
— Tweeting a Tale (@tweetingatale) March 8, 2019
‘Bloody technicoloured dipshit, how was I supposed to know he’d starred in a film called the Last Bullet set in bloody Borneo or whatever!’ ‘Roxy’ I said, ‘the road!’ She tugged the wheel left and the car snaked. Composure came in a click. ‘God, look at your face!’ she said. [KL]
— Tweeting a Tale (@tweetingatale) March 8, 2019
I jerked forward as Roxy lost control. Everything blurred, and I heard her scream as a whistling noise entered the car followed by a thump. The side of my face was wet. The car swerved. I grabbed the wheel and saw Roxy’s head had a hole in it; it was her blood on my face. [AB]
— Tweeting a Tale (@tweetingatale) March 8, 2019
I was checked over by paramedics, then a DI Chang spoke to me. ‘Ms Crown was an undercover police officer. Did she give you anything before she died?’, ‘Like what?’, ‘A package, a letter, anything written?’, ‘Just this,’ I said and showed her the crumpled, damp leaving card. [MH]
— Tweeting a Tale (@tweetingatale) March 9, 2019
A sudden commotion took hold. DI Chang handed the card over. “Look at the first letter of each word of the printed message, it will become clear.” I studied the mawkish message, something I never really did. If only I’d considered it earlier, all this could’ve been avoided. [JD]
— Tweeting a Tale (@tweetingatale) March 9, 2019
‘S. O. S,’ I said. ‘She was trying to warn me.’
‘She was trying to recruit you,’ Chang corrected before barking orders at the confused coppers wondering by us.
‘For what?’ I said after she finished, too polite, even now, to interrupt.
‘You really don’t know, do you?’ (TS)— Tweeting a Tale (@tweetingatale) March 9, 2019
There was another world, another path I could have taken. A life where I had followed through on everything, where I hadn’t given up. But that wasn’t now. Wasn’t me.(SJD)
— Tweeting a Tale (@tweetingatale) March 9, 2019
And that’s the end of Tweeting a Tale!
Nine @fictionfound writers, 55 tweets and one genuinely brilliant story for @LeedsLit.
Today we’re going to introduce the amazing writers who’ve co-created a masterpiece. ?
— Tweeting a Tale (@tweetingatale) March 10, 2019
Tweeting a Tale were:
Angela Huskisson
Matt Hill
Rhuar Dean
Joe Devlin
Antony Dunford
Tom Smith
Katie Lodge
Sarah Jane Dobbs
Akeem Balogun
