flash fiction

May 2018 Promptly Penned

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PromptlyPenned

Welcome! If you’re new here, Promptly Penned is where we are all given the same sentence and we have to craft a flash fiction piece around it. I’ll let you know what the sentence is by putting it in bold. I hope you enjoy the piece:

 

The figure came out of nowhere, or, at least, that’s how it seemed. One-minute Anna was walking home from work and the next she was wrapped in someone’s arms. Yeah, it would have been awesome if it were Jason Mamoa, but it wasn’t. She didn’t have that kind of luck.

Her attacker wasn’t big, but he . . . she was strong. Really strong. And smelled of rancid meat. Anna gagged at the smell as she fought to get away.

“Let go of me, mother fucker!” she yelled.

She kicked back and connected with a leg, but still her attacker wouldn’t let go.

“Shit, fuck, damn.”

The person grabbed her hair and wretched her head to the side as something sharp dug into her neck. She sagged and gasped at the sudden bright pain. Pain as she had never known before and truly didn’t want to know.

From far away, someone yelled. She was jerked away from whatever held her and she fell to the ground. She tried so hard to roll to her knees and crawl away but didn’t have the energy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she muttered.

“Do you want to live?” a voice asked her.

“Duh, fucknut,” she slurred. “Of course, who wouldn’t want to live unless they had shit for brains. Fuck, fuck . . .”

Anna then died doing what she loved—swearing profusely.

 

Anna gasped in a breath and struggled to sit up. What the fuck happened? Where was she?

“Relax.”

Gentle hands pushed her back until she lay flat. She wished she could see . . . why couldn’t she see? Was she blind? Was she dead and blind? No, fuck, she wasn’t blind, her eyes weren’t opened. Were they? No, they weren’t. So, why couldn’t she force them? Fuck, she was so tired.

 

The next time Anna surfaced she could actually open her eyes. She also didn’t try to sit up since she felt dizzy and hadn’t even moved. Was that normal?

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

She tried to focus on the voice, but everything was a blur. So, maybe she wasn’t awake. Maybe she was dead. Was this heaven? She almost laughed, yeah, she doubted it since she cursed way too much for heaven. Couldn’t be hell since it wasn’t hot and she didn’t believe in it. Huh, so if she didn’t believe in it could she still go there? The question made her head hurt and she closed her eyes again.

A cool hand stroked her forehead.

“You need to wake up now.”

The voice was soft and female. Yeah, it was a female. Anna opened her eyes to find a woman she’d never met leaning over her. Blonde hair, big blue eyes and a bright smile. Anna knew right away the woman was probably perky. She hated perky people. They got on her last fucking nerve.

“My name is Selene and we have a lot to talk about.”

Anna wanted nothing more than to close her eyes. She hated when people said they had to talk. That usually meant bad news. Really bad news. Fuck, she was dead. She knew it.

 

Bronwyn    Siobhan

 

May 2018 Picture Prompt

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FlashFicPHOTO

For our picture this month we have this lovely image:

Liberty bridge in Budapest, Hungary with people walking on it. D

And now onto the story!

Everything looked so damn familiar. The dark green walking bridge over a river, bright in the sun. The concrete surface and the lime colored metal structure next to the path. The structure that turned out to be a bridge for motor vehicles. Elegant buildings with balconies bookended each side. It was exactly like his dream. Vision. Whatever.

No, that wasn’t right. In the dream, he’d been on the bridge with the car way on his left side. Slowly, he turned in a circle surveying the area. This whole situation was totally fucked up. He was a man who believed in facts, evidence, not weird-assed woo woo shit. And, yet, here he was in the middle of a place straight out of his dreams. He knew he’d never been here. The country yes, but this particular city. No. He had no reason to since he traveled where his job sent him. He was not a man who went on vacations.

Damn, he just wanted to turn and walk away, but something drove him. He knew he had to be here in this place, on this date and at this time. Shoving his hands in his pants pockets, he began to slowly walk across the bridge. He scanned the surrounding area, building a map in his head, which he filled with every person, car, and object.

Reaching the mid-point, he turned and saw the view from his dream. The bright sunny day, the blue sky filled with puffy white clouds, and the people. A woman in a pair of black pants, purple shirt, with her red hair in a pony tail walked toward him accompanied by a young girl.  He knew them. They were from his dream, though he hadn’t been able to see them clearly. Today, he watched as they laughed and talked. Mother and daughter, maybe.

A glint in the distance pulled his attention and he zeroed in on the three-story building ringed in balconies. Something wasn’t…he was moving before he thought. He shoved the woman and child to the ground covering them with his body as shots rang out. The people around them screamed and scattered, racing in all directions.

Rolling to his feet, he picked the child up with one arm and grabbed the woman’s hand pulling her up. Then he began to move, towing the woman with him toward one of the bridge supports. Once on the other side and out of the line of fire, he put the girl down.

“Are you both okay?”

The woman crouched and began to check the girl over, who had begun to cry.

“I think so,” she said, her voice shaky. “What happened?”

“Someone was shooting at the bridge,” he said, not admitting that the bullets were aimed for her. Not until they made it to safety. They were too exposed for her to freak out. He needed her to stay as calm as possible so she would keep the kid calm.

“Momma?”

The girl sniffled and wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist. The woman held her close and looked up at him. Waiting. Waiting for him to do something.

Shit, he wasn’t anyone’s hero. That wasn’t his role. Get in, do the job and get out with no one the wiser. That was his role. That’s the way he preferred it. Unfortunately, he couldn’t leave them. The dream was driving him on with a certainty that settled into his bones. He was supposed to protect this woman and child. From what, he didn’t know. Not yet. He would though since that was his job. He gathered intel to ensure his jobs went off without a hitch. This was why he was the best assassin the government had.

 

Bronwyn   Siobhan   Sarah

April Song Flash Fiction

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FlashFicSONG

This month’s song flash fiction is Dive by Ed Sheeran. I hadn’t heard the song before now, but I love it. It brought a whole scene to mind between two of my favorite people, Cara and Spencer.

Oh, if you’ve never heard the song, take a listen. Now onto the flash.

Spencer leaned back in his chair and watched Cara move her way across the crowded bar. She stopped to smile and speak to someone. Damn, she was so beautiful. Not just outside, which was evident with her long fall of blonde hair, big blue eyes and a body that got him hard just thinking about her. No, she was beautiful inside too. Smart, funny, caring…what the fuck was she doing with him?

He was a tattoo artist, biker, with a record. She was a fucking Ph.D. with an amazing career. No two people were so wrong for each other and yet here he was, on a date with her. Him on a date. He didn’t date. He fucked and moved on. He just hadn’t managed that with Cara. And he was in deep, too deep. He’d never felt for anyone what he felt for her. Obviously, since they were dating. The big mystery was how she felt about him.

He knew she liked what they did in bed. He didn’t have any doubts since she was very vocal, which he loved. Hell, they’d spent all day in bed and were only out because there wasn’t any food at his apartment. She wasn’t bothered about being seen with him either, but that didn’t mean anything. And when did he get to be such a pussy? Sitting here wondering if a woman was into him wasn’t something Spencer did. Ever.

Cara slid into the chair next to him and smiled. “I love this place.”

Spencer looked around The Pit and was forced to smile. Only she would like the hole in the wall bar he frequented. Shit, she’d managed to make friends with a lot of the regulars too. That was hard to do, since a lot of the people were hard asses who didn’t like many people. Yet, she’d managed it.

“Oh,” she said, “I love this song.”

Spencer listened but didn’t recognize the song. Didn’t matter since it was slow and he wanted to hold Cara, needed to hold her. Standing he pulled her into his arms and began to move.

“I don’t know it,” he murmured in her ear.

“It’s called Dive by Ed Sheerhan.”

Her breath was warm against his skin and he tightened his arms around her. Her body moved with his and he wished they were back at his apartment so he could strip her down and feel her skin against his.

“You should stay tonight,” he said, surprising himself. He never, ever invited a woman to sleep at his place. Shit, he didn’t bring women back to his bed at all. He preferred to go to their house so he could leave when he wanted. Cara was the only woman he’d ever had in his bed. The only woman he wanted in his bed.

“I’d like that.”

“Why?”

It had popped out, just like the request for her to stay, but he needed to know.

“Why what? Why do I want to stay?”

“Fuck, darlin, why are you even here with me? Yeah, the sex is amazing, but you and I don’t make sense.”

She looked up at him for a long moment. “I like you. I like you a lot. And I think we make sense. On the surface, maybe not, but that’s just looks. Deep down, we have a lot in common. I think we have something good, Spencer. I want to see where it goes.”

The knot in his gut, the knot he hadn’t even noticed, unfurled.

“I’m pushing, aren’t I?” Cara said. “I’m sorry. I know you said you wanted casual. So, yeah, casual.” She pulled out of his arms. “I need to go.”

Spencer took her hand and pulled her back into his arms. “I don’t want you to go. I want you to come home with me. Stay with me, Cara.”

He took her lips in a kiss that started out as something sweet but didn’t stay that way. By the time she pulled away they were both panting and staring at each other.

“Are you ready to go home?” he asked, his voice gruff.

She licked her lips and nodded. “Yes, take me home, Spencer.”

 

Bronwyn     Siobhan     Mark

 

 

April Photo Flash Fiction

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FlashFicPHOTO

This month’s picture is surely one that will inspire some interesting stories. I, on the other hand, stared blankly at it until two of my favorite flash fiction people Cara and Spencer popped into my head. I wrote something with them in December and January, so we’ll take another peek into their lives. Hope you enjoy it. Oh here’s the pic:

04-2018

 

The gallery was packed. People gushed over the artist, the artwork, the food, even the clothes worn by the guests. The whole thing gave Cara a huge headache. Her cousin Stacy—no scratch that—Deerdrah, she’d changed her name since Stacy wasn’t the name of an artist. Cara thought that was stupid since her name was Stacy and she was the artist, but whatever. Anyway, Cara’s parents had insisted she attended Deerdrah’s opening.

And who the hell had come up with the spelling of Stacy’s new name? Cara was sure the ditzy woman would go on and on about how it reflected her personality blah blah blah. Stacy had talked incessantly since they were kids and she doubted she’d changed much since then.  Thankfully, she’d spent just long enough to let Stacy know she was there and to congratulate her. If she was lucky, Cara would get out before having to see any more of her family.

After the holiday fiasco, Cara now limited her involvement with her parents. They didn’t like the man she was engaged to and wanted her to break up with him. Cara didn’t care what they wanted. She was in love with Spencer. End of story.

Her phone signaled she had a text. From Spencer. Intrigued, she unlocked it and found he had given her directions to where he was in the gallery. Following his instructions, she rounded a wall and found him standing alone in a small alcove. Damn, he was hot, from the top of his six-four tattooed body to his feet Spencer was everything she wanted in a man. Stepping up to stand next to him, she focused on what he was looking at.

The photo was bizarre, to say the least. A female, maybe, doll with hair that defied gravity and streamed at an angle from the doll’s head had some kind of wires plugged into her back. In the background looked to be a jar with lights in it, at least, that’s what Cara imagined it was since the only thing in focus was the creepy doll silhouetted against the lights. The name of the piece was Rebirth.

“Wow,” Cara muttered. “That’s interesting.”

Spencer nodded. “Yeah, it’s something.”

“I haven’t really paid much attention to what’s hanging on the walls. Are they all like this?”

Spencer shook his head. “No, this one is probably the best out of everything.”

“Hmm, that’s too bad.”

He finally caught her gaze and smiled. “You want to know what’s worse? This is one of the few pieces that haven’t sold.”

Cara leaned into him and he slid his arm around her waist. They stood together and stared at the image a moment more.

“You know what’s really bad?” she asked, dropping her voice to a whisper.

“What?” he murmured against her ear.

“I think her parents have bullied a lot of people into buying this stuff.”

“Okay, that sucks.”

She laughed softly. “Yeah, could you imagine being stuck with this stuff? What would you do with it?”

He nuzzled her neck and she shivered. Without thinking, she tilted her head to give him more access. The man could turn her on without even trying and made her lose her head. Now here they stood, hidden from view of a crowd, and she didn’t care.

Spencer nudged her head up and took her lips in a kiss. His beard rubbed gently against her face as he slid his tongue into her mouth. The dual sensations made her legs shake. Cara ran her hands up his arms and locked them behind his head as he molded her body to his. The man made her lose her head, he was the only one to ever affect her in this way.

He pulled away but kept his arms around her as voices neared their hiding spot. When her parents appeared, they would just see Spencer holding Cara as they stared at the ugly photo on the wall. At least, that’s what Cara hoped they’d see.

She smiled pleasantly at her parents, though she still hadn’t forgiven them for the horrible Christmas dinner. She’d made it very clear to them that Spencer was the man she loved and they were engaged. If her parents chose to continue to act like jerks, Cara wouldn’t see the anymore.

“Mother,” Cara said.

“Cara, what did you two find?”

When she and Spencer stepped aside her mother and father studied the photo quietly. Finally, her mother shrugged.

“I don’t get this modern art. I suppose though if you two like it that’s all that matters.”

Cara started to object, but her father spoke, cutting her off.

“I’ll go talk to Deerdrah about it. I think it will make a nice wedding gift.”

Her parents moved off as she and Spencer looked at one another and began to laugh.

 

Now head on over to see what the other bloggers came up with.

Bronwyn     Siobhan