Flash Fiction, tutto e niente

but, still (or the magic door)

Susan felt like a fool. It was 1977 not 1957. My god, she was a liberated woman! How could she fall for his line?  

Stupid!

But, still, she stayed. Remembering. Champagne. His voice in her ear. “I can’t tell you where I’m going but meet me here on Christmas Eve.”

Stupid!

Did she think she was Deborah Kerr in some kind of Hollywood movie? She should go.

Stupid!

But, still, she stayed. Remembering. Laughter. Sparkling blue eyes. “This’ll be our magical place.”

Stupid!

But, still, she stayed. Waiting. Till she heard those whispered words: “Hey beautiful. Is this seat taken?”

magic-door

Photo prompt courtesy of Dale Rogerson

These 100 hopeful words were written for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioners Challenge.

Was it in her head or did he come through the magical doors?

Flash Fiction, tutto e niente

Time

Time has lost all meaning. Had it been one year? Twenty years? One hundred? More? She had stopped trying to count the days long ago. But she had believed–really believed–she’d be able to note the seasons. Hoping to mark the years. Imagining she’d be able to picture their faces as time passed.

She had wanted to be prepared. Be ready for the day when this ended. To not flinch when she saw her mother’s weary eyes and her father’s body wracked by time. To smile when her baby brother gazed down on her instead of reaching up for a hug. To love what is instead of mourning what was lost.

But the light was funny and she got confused. Never knowing whether she had slept for moment or a day or more. So she lost track of the seasons. Couldn’t count the years. She still felt as if she was waiting. Hoping. But she was no longer sure why. Or what she was hoping for.

For him to save her?

For an axe to end the lingering hope?

For a fire to burn them both to ash and scatter their doomed love into the wind?

For time to end?

The light was growing dim again. Perhaps she’d sleep for a moment. She could think about this another time. That was one thing she knew.

There was always more time.

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The image is provided by Janek-Sedlar at DeviantArt and shared thanks to Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge.

Thanks!! I needed a kick in the butt to write some FF.

Haiku & Other Poetry, tutto e niente

about last night …

Smickering strangers:

A prophesy for shame or    

Arbitrary love?

person in black pants sitting on white chair
Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Thanks for the flirty inspiration to Fandango (arbitrary) and to Tales from the Mind (smicker) 

And for those of you (like myself) that need to know, one of the the definitions of smicker is “to ogle and smile amorously.” So go forth and SMICKER! You never know were it might lead 😉

Haiku & Other Poetry, tutto e niente

living love (for The Short of It)

One of my favorite Word Pressers (not sure if that’s a legit phrase, but I like it!) has started a new venture called The Short of It. It’s a wonderfully generous site where she gathers and publishes short-form prose and poetry. 

In her words:

My goals are to find those poets and writers who have something big to say in as little words as possible. Those who can touch someone’s heart in a meaningful way by leaving the reader saying wow, feeling an epiphany or just loudly internally screaming YES! The hope is to turn those memorable pieces into an annual anthology. I’d like to leave readers feeling we may think small but we are mighty wordsmiths!

So join me by participating in this new venture or help me find those poets out there who have much to say, and offer it in a way which is, as they say – “short, sweet and to the point.” 

I’m in awe of anyone who is determined to put themselves out there to showcase their thoughts and feelings on any subject. Thank you for your willingness to be a part of this with me!

I am honored that she chose some of my work for the site, so please read (and share if you’d like) my piece entitled “living love” for The Short of It at I Write Her. 

Thanks!!! 

Plus you can find submission rules and more info at The Short of It