One Love, Forever.

“But Now I must sleep.”

“In the cemetery?” Cara shuttered, whether from the chill in the air or fear she couldn’t tell. Either way she did not want to stop here for any reason.

“It’s as good a place as any.” Peter sighed as he lowered his weary body to the soft earth.

“You can’t rest there. That’s someone’s grave.”

Peter ignored her and stretched out his limbs, lying on his back. Cara looked at the man in front of her, this man she barely knew. The day he walked into her small town was the day nothing else mattered. He was perfect in every way. His long dark hair, his tall stature. His skin seemed to glow in the sun.

Cara jumped from a sudden surge in her toes. Peter’s cool skin brushed hers as he slowly traced his hand over the delicate bones of her foot.

“This is what I want to remember, these moments with you. Uninterrupted by the world and its cruel ways.”

He always seemed to talk as if he was saying goodbye. Was he going to leave her? She sat beside him wanting to close the gap between them. As if reading her mind he pulled her down so that their bodies were as close as they possibly could be. The energy was undeniable, raging yet sad all at once. Why did it feel like an ending every time they were together?

“I will always love you,” He whispered in her ear. She closed her eyes and drifted to sleep with his hands still stroking her hair.

As the sun rose from behind the hill peter rose from his resting place, grimacing as his joints groaned in agony.

“Until later, my Love.”

Peter hobbled away, turning to look at the grave again.

Cara Moreau

1936-1960

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This story got an honorable mention over at Microcosms. A big thanks goes out to the judge, Geoff Holme.

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Your Face Paint is Dripping

Photo by:  kazuend

Photo by: kazuend

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder

or so they say

But not every mask can hide the blurred lines of deception

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A few more lines. This time for Three Line Tales, Week Twelve.

A Tribute to Flash! Friday Fiction Competition

Flash!Friday had their Flashversary Competition this past Friday but it was also the very last FF contest…ever. I stumbled upon this site through another Flash Fiction Site  about ten months ago. Once I started competing I was hooked! These weekly competitions have helped me gain confidence in my writing and find my voice. I will be forever grateful.

Our story requirements:

Must be exactly 100 words

Must start with “On Friday everything changed

 

This is one of two ( read the second one here) stories I submitted.

On Friday everything changed. The last notes of a song rang out, beautiful words from stories past floated by in memories so strong that hearts swelled and eyes blurred.

This is not an ending but a transition. One that can be embraced with gusto. Courage was born here. Those who hid behind their words emerged and flourished, finding their true voices.

This is a place that will be forever in our hearts, a stepping stone that got us where we are today. And as we continue to move forward, we know that the friends we’ve gained will come with us.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You can’t Ignore Me

Don’t go to sleep yet, sweet one.

Silly naive girl. You can’t ignore that nagging feeling you have.

Get out of bed and check the front door.

Again.

Again.

Again.

What about the stove? Go back down and make sure it’s off. You don’t want the house to burn down, do you?

That’s a good girl.

Lift those heavy lids, my darling. You didn’t say your prayers. You know that if you don’t say them just right your family’s deaths will be your fault.

Come on, start over. You drifted off a bit.

Start again.

No! No! No!

You said the names in the wrong order.

Start again.

That’s better.

Check the clock.

3:00am

You have to be up at six.

I’ll see you then.

 

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This story nabbed an Honorable Mention over at Flash! Friday. This excites me not only because there are so many talented writers (who, I can admit, are intimidating to compete with) every week that I consider it a privilege to be among the few chosen ones, but also because of the deeply personal subject I chose to write about. Last week was OCD Awareness Week and I submitted a few pieces to different competitions that had OCD themes, showing what it’s really like to have this disorder. I am elated that our wonderful judges Foy S. Iver and Holly Geely were able to see the true meaning behind this story. They seemed to be able to relate to it , whether it be from personal experience or second hand from a dear loved one (I don’t know for sure).

This disorder is so watered down in many cultures that it has become a joke. I am so glad that I can use my writing as a tool to spread awareness as I continue to fight the stigma attached to OCD.

Here are the judges wonderful comments on my story.

FI: I love a left-fielder! The ‘cost of obsession’ was a popular element but “You Can’t Ignore Me” sucks you in, almost convincing you that the voice is inside your skull. The syntax drives that impulse to heart-root, compelling you to get up and check the stove (did I turn it off?), or the lock (maybe I only thought I turned it). For me, it resurrected dead memories of compulsive prayers whispered in the dark, never good enough for the ears of God. Absolutely gripping, friend.

HG: You…wow…Whether or not it was the writer’s intent, this story captures the essence of Obsessive Compulsive disorder. I had to take a moment after I read this one, it strikes so close to home. Beautifully done.

 

 

 

Micro Bookends FIVE FAMILIES

Photo Credit: Enric Fradera via CC.

Photo Credit: Enric Fradera via CC.

For last week’s Micro Bookends I was inspired twice! That almost never happens. The bookends were FIVE and FAMILIES/FAMILY. Here are my two stories.

 

Less Than One Percent

 

“Five days? But it’s not possible, is it? I had a vasectomy.”

“Hold on…. Google says there is a less than one percent chance. Oh my goodness! Look at all these stories of pregnancies after vasectomies!”

“Did you take a test?”

“No, but I have one in my purse.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

“I’m not going to take a pregnancy test in a restaurant bathroom!”

“Why not? Aren’t you dying to know?”

“But knowing will make it real. Six kids, Brett! I do not want six!”

“It could just be stress from moving.”

“Stress. Yes, maybe. I can’t believe I ever wanted a big family.”

 

Mia’s Job

 

“Five, six, seven, eight.”

Wait, that’s not good enough. Go back and start over.

“Again?”

You paused on seven.

“No I didn’t.”

Are you sure?

“Yes…. I think.”

If you didn’t do it right, your sister will die.

“That doesn’t make sense. You’re lying”

Want to chance it? If she dies, it will be your fault. Now start over and DON”T step on a crack.

“But I’ve recounted 6 times, I’m already late, and people are watching.”

It doesn’t feel right though, does it? She will die; deep down you know it.

“You’re right. Ok. One, two, three…”

That’s it. Remember, it’s your job to save your family.

 

 

 

Whale

Mirissa (Sri Lanka), blue whale. CC2.0 photo by Arian Zwegers.

Mirissa (Sri Lanka), blue whale. CC2.0 photo by Arian Zwegers.

 

“Whale.”

“Your name is Whale?”

“No. They call me Whale.”

“Um, why?”

Whale smiled. She loved the look on people’s faces when she told them that. They would always hesitate, their eyes running over her body, making note that she wasn’t a particularly large person. They would open their mouth as if to say something then close it fast, thinking better of it.

Then she’d walk out toward the rising tide, lift her hands up to the setting sun, and fall into the salty bliss that was her home. She was free to swim again in her true form, Whale.

 

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Written for Warmup Wednesday!

This week’s Warmup Wednesday challenge: make the first and last words of your story “whale.”

 

Mother’s Pitch

Photo Credit: Nano Anderson via CC.

Photo Credit: Nano Anderson via CC.

“Perfect, just perfect.”

Sarah could hear the sarcastic undertone in her mother’s voice. The clapping that echoed around the white-washed walls couldn’t hide the disappointment radiating from her skin.

Britany bowed in gratitude toward her audience but the quiver in her legs betrayed her nervousness. She knew their mother noticed the missing note in the ninth measure.

Sarah gave here sister a compassionate look as they passed each other on the stage. Britany’s eyes pleaded for help. Sarah couldn’t let her suffer for being less gifted.

As she poised the bow on the strings she made the decision to test her mother’s perfect pitch.

 

 

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Written for Micro Bookends 1.50

Bookends: Perfect, Pitch

 

 

Discovery – #sixwordstory

Photo from Google Images

Photo from Google Images

Reaches in pocket, ” hey, five dollars!”

If you like this story, please head over to Sometimes Stellar Storyteller Six Word Story Challenge and like my story in the comments. The story with the most likes wins! And, while your at it, enter your story too!

Queen of the Cyber Wars – #sixwordstory

photo courtesy Ashwin Rao

photo courtesy Ashwin Rao

Her little lie spread like wildfire.

 

 

I was CRAZY busy last weekend but I wanted to write something, since my participation in flash contests has been lacking as of late. So I stopped by The angry Hourglass, only for a moment, and submitted a quick little story. Well, I guess sometimes less is more because I got an honorable mention from our wonderful judge Brett Milam. His comments were very kind and made my day!

Nietzsche said it was his ambition to say in ten sentences what others say in a whole book. There’s something palpable to brevity when done right, especially in the context of an already limited-word genre, like flash fiction. In this case, you’ve said in six words what others utilized another 354 words to accomplish. But I like it because it’s apropos of the prompt and it says everything in those six words. And now I’ve already gone on over 12 times longer than the story, so I’ll stop.