Fiction Friday: [A Study in Human Behavior on the C Train]

in

I clenched my jaw against the screech of metal grinding against metal and didn’t relax until it stopped. The subway car filled with the droning hum of an idling train. And the groans of my fellow commuters.

It happened way too often for me to be concerned and nine times out of ten we’d be moving again in under a minute, so I remained quiet behind my New York Post. No point wasting the energy when I knew work would stress me out enough.

Peeking over the paper, my eyes skimmed over heads buried in books, those happy to have an extra minute of time in a world far from the bowels of New York City. My focus was drawn to the faces already painted in panic. The man who stood in front of me mumbling swear words under his breath. The huffers and the grumblers. The eye darters, the feet tappers, the head shakers. And to those who needed the entire train to understand how inconvenienced they were by the situation.  

It wasn’t like I relished in other people’s discomfort. I was just captivated by human nature. Like how a situation could yield such a variety of reactions based on the culmination of individual factors that led them to this very moment. It was fascinating.

A pin drop silence filled the car when the idling hum came to an abrupt end. I stretched my jaw to clear the cotton ball stuffed feeling it caused in my ears and enjoyed the ten seconds of muted confusion before the realization kicked in and the air filled with irritation and impatience. Even the most passive of commuters joined in. We were going to be here for a while.

The crackly fizz of the intercom drew everyone’s attention. Every ear dutifully tilted upward as if straining their necks would help to translate the marbled words woven deep within the static. The announcement ended, none of us any more informed about the delay than before. This only served to garner more outbursts and exaggerated sighs from the attention seekers, more shuffling and nibbling from the nervous Nellies. Even the bookworm’s faces flashed annoyance before digging their noses back into their fantasy worlds.

Moments later, the lights flickered above right before the train jerked forward. The man standing in front of me knocked heavily into the woman next to him. He muttered an apology under his breath, but nose in book, she barely even noticed. Applause dappled around the train car, the strings of tension loosening. As the air thinned, I sat exhausted by the choppy waves of emotion that had crashed all around me...in the past three minutes.

Fiction Friday: [The Pursuit of Love]

in

[It's October...what better time to get a little creepy! Enjoy!]

Sarah’s skin was cold as ice. And it wasn’t from the chilled air cutting straight through her thin silk dress.

When he picked her up for their date it was easy to see she wanted to look perfect for him. He had witnessed her going on one failed date after another, all the while gathering information to craft each step in his plan to win her over. To make her feel special. To make her his.

Forever.

Now her unblinking gaze stretched toward the sky and her parted lips passed no air between them. The large swath of purples and pinks circling her neck, a harsh reminder that blood had once flowed through her veins. Her stillness sent a surge of electricity through his body. A satisfaction in knowing that her last happy memory was provided by him.

He posed her—hands clasped behind her head, legs crossed at the ankles—so he could lie next to her with each visit. Share with her the ins and outs of his day. He knew it couldn’t last. That their relationship would eventually end, so he relished in every second he had with her.

In a couple of days, three teenagers would stumble upon her pale white body nestled amongst the warm tones of the fall foliage. For the teens the scars of what they saw would take years to heal.

For him, healing would begin only in the pursuit of his next true love.

Fiction Friday: [Bedtime Story]

in

[This week's Fiction Friday was my submission for Scene Stealers #25. Scene Stealers is a fun writing prompt exercise from Write to Done. They provide the first two sentences to be used as written, a specific writing exercise, and it can't be longer than 350 words. Click the link above if you want to give it a try. In the meantime...enjoy!]

 

Lightning flashed just as he reached the house. Had he been discovered?

Counting on the element of surprise, Charles scrutinized the front of the house. Blinds drawn and curtains unmoving, he was satisfied that the plan was still a go. 

He crept up the stairs of the wooden porch and paused to listen at the front door. The sound of distant thunder served as cover while he worked the lock. Easing through the threshold, he was momentarily mesmerized by the long shadows stretching and dancing around the entry from the flickering candles. 

The rest of the first floor was blanketed in darkness from the power outage and he could hear her soft tones wafting toward him from upstairs. Hands behind his back, he tiptoed his way to the second floor. Her soft s’s and muffled notes forming solid words as he drew closer. Standing outside the door he heard her reading a story to the children. 

They have no idea what’s coming, he thought. 

He pushed the door open and his ears filled with satisfying screams and his eyes relished in their startled expressions. 

“Don’t move,” he said. “Stay right where you are.” 

They did as they were told and it was easy to see their hearts beating wildly in their chests. It took everything in him to suppress the smile fighting its way to the surface. 

He pulled his hand from behind his back for the big reveal and they screamed. Just like he knew they would. 

“Puppy!” the twins squealed in unison. 

His wife, on the other hand, seemed less than thrilled.

Perhaps he should’ve limited the element of surprise to the kids.  

[Scene Stealers #25 exercise = Plot Twist]

Fiction Friday: [Honey, I'm Home]

in

[I love to challenge myself. So, this I worked to write a complete story in exactly 100 words. Enjoy!]

The throaty rumble of the muffler drew closer. This particular sound was enough to close in the four walls that surrounded me. Suffocated me.

He was home.

The click of the lock would be followed by, Honey, I’m home. He knew those words churned the acid in my stomach. He didn’t care.

Heavy footsteps thudded solidly across the hardwood floor, stopping outside my room. A crack of light stretched across the floor as the door eased open. Sitting up, I tucked my knees under my chin to the grating tune of metal scraping concrete. The shackle biting into my ankle. 

Fiction Friday: [Reset | Delicate Cycle]

in

Milly flicked her tail as she whined and buried her face into my calf. Reaching down behind her ear, I scratched her favorite spot and struggled to recall the last time she’d been so needy. I wondered if she somehow knew that in just a few hours she would no longer be a part of my life. At best she’d be the spark of a memory that never quite ignited. A fleeting wisp of familiarity that dissipated quicker than it appeared.

Not so long ago people lived with their pasts, no matter how painful. The lucky ones would go through years of therapy, talking about their issues until they became manageable. That wasn’t enough for me. I had no doubt that most people in my position would make the same decision. Would sacrifice everything they once knew to forget the feeling of their cheekbone crushing under the fist of the man they believed loved them. Forget the time—every single time—they accepted his apology and stayed.

In my isolated world, Milly was my only bright spot. My only constant. She never judged me and was always there to lick my wounds. At the first appointment I’d asked about the possibility of keeping her in my life, but they made it clear that memory swipes were all or nothing. Losing her was breaking my heart, but at least it wouldn’t last for long.  

I nuzzled my nose into her neck and held her until she started to squirm in my arms. She leapt soundlessly onto the hardwood floor, but didn’t go far. She stared at me with her piercing yellow eyes and somehow I knew she’d miss me. Without breaking our gaze, she let out a single meow. Just one to say goodbye before she turned and hopped up on the couch. She never looked up again as she circled her favorite spot and curled up into a fuzzy gray ball. My hand itched to pet her once more, but I couldn’t. One step would be all it took to weaken my defenses.

I grabbed my bag from the floor and read over the carefully crafted note one more time. It said nothing of how or why I’d reached my decision, it only held instructions for taking care of Milly. Her new owners would need to know about her favorite spot, her favorite toys and that she was afraid of the vacuum cleaner.

I wished it had been that simple for me. A note full of care instructions that broke down my needs as simply as a laundry tag. Handle with care. Be gentle. Do not hit.  

Long, lazy purrs wafted from the couch. I found the sunlight circling Milly and giving her an ethereal glow. A fitting reminder of what an angel she’d been in my life. My old life.

Fiction Friday: [Zazen]

in

With the dulcet tones of New Age music surrounding her, Audra felt weightless. Inhaling deeply, she held it for a moment as she floated. She exhaled and her mind filled with images of…violence and murder.

She untangled her legs and plodded down the hall trying to recall the last time her boyfriend had annoyed her this much. He was on the floor with his back against the couch, fingers dancing frantically over the game controller. She stared at him for a while, but it was clear that he didn't realize she was there..

“How am I supposed to meditate when you have this thing blasting?”

Her exasperated gesture toward the television went unnoticed, his eyes never leaving the gun-toting, carjacking character on the screen. The silence hung in the air so long she doubted that he’d heard her.

“Sorry, babe,” Denny finally said.

The rich colors of the game reflecting in his eyes and the lack of remote control reaching betrayed the sincerity dripping from his voice. A string of past apologies played in her mind and she questioned the authenticity of each one. A pain radiated along her jawline drawing her attention to her clenched teeth and pressed lips. All of this wasn’t worth a fight right now. She wanted to feel centered, not angry.

She shot one last look toward Denny through narrowed eyes and grabbed the headphones off the coffee table. Heading back to the room she had to remind herself to breathe.

“I really am sorry,” he said and with the sounds of squealing tires and utter carnage dissipating, she believed him.

Audra crossed her legs, inhaled deeply and smiled as she placed the headphones on the floor.

Fiction Friday: [The Preservation of a Lopsided Smile]

in

The color drained from Margo’s face when the email arrived. She had checked her inbox obsessively for it every day. Now, the breath caught in her chest as the pointy-fingered cursor hovered, waiting to open what she hoped to be the answer to what had defied explanation for so long. Too long.

Ignoring her husband’s protests, she sent the request shortly after Brianna’s death. Her daughter hadn’t left a note and poring through her emails led only to prolonged heartache instead of providing the answers Margo so desperately needed. Facebook added to her despair when they denied the request, offering only to memorialize the page. Her tears morphed from those of sorrow to joy when an employee turned out to be the friend of a friend and offered to do what they could to get her the password. They warned her it would take time, but if she were able to have one last connection, an understanding of who Briana was in the end, the wait would be worth it.

She considered calling Jim despite his attempts to stop this moment from happening. She tried to convince herself it was for his benefit, but her heart wouldn’t allow her mind to push the truth away so easily. It was no secret that Margo blamed herself for their daughter never seeing her sixteenth birthday. As a mother, she should have seen the signs. She should have known Brianna was unhappy.

The phone clicked louder than it should have against the wood as she set it on the desk. If she was truly to blame, the last thing she needed was a witness to the proof. Her gaze fell upon the framed photo of Brianna next to the laptop. An unsteady finger traced the outline of her daughter’s face as the tears slid over her thinned lips, rounded her trembling chin and splashed onto the keyboard.

***

Jim arrived home a few hours later and tossed his keys into the lopsided bowl on the entry table. His mind traveled back a couple of years as he paused to remember the look of pride on Brianna’s twelve-year-old face after she had come home from camp. The shape always reminded him of her smile. The bright colors personified the happy girl he chose to remember.

He found Margo on the couch and recognized the faraway gaze to nothing, the ruddy complexion from a bout of sorrow-filled tears, and the unnatural stillness that had filled the house since they lost their daughter. A full mug of tea sat on the coffee table, and there was no doubt it had gone cold. He had yet to find the right words to comfort his wife. He imagined he’d find them buried somewhere deep below his own broken heart.

Jim planted a kiss on his wife’s forehead and then ambled down the hallway. The downturned picture frame on the desk drew his attention as he entered their bedroom. With stilted breath, he made his way over and placed it upright again. The heat of tears pressed against his eyes as they met with Brianna’s sparkling smile. He slumped into the chair and his heart folded into itself when he failed to remember the sound of her laughter. He understood Margo’s needs, but he desperately wanted to hold onto to the daughter he knew as long as he could. Even as the pieces of her floated just out of reach.

His elbow nudged the laptop, waking it from its slumber. Like a moth to a flame, Jim was drawn by the light and found Margo’s email staring back at him. With each passing second, the strings of curiosity pulled tighter as his gaze lingered on the cursor hovering over an unopened email.   

Fiction Friday: [Kindling]

in

[Sometimes strange images fill your head until you turn them into words. Enjoy!]

I stumbled upon
a woman
floating
in a field.
Her long,
dark curls
stretched
toward
the tall grass
as the rest of her
defied gravity.

Sunlight splashed
her face,
masking
her identity
with its rays.
The hem of her dress
ruffled and danced
in time with the
swaying grass.

Hypnotized,
I stood
witness to
her waking
with a start.
The curls
spilling down
her back
as she sat
upright.

All the while
I stood
frozen.

She turned
toward me,
her face
still bathed
fully in light.
Its bright
tendrils  
reached
for me.
Each radiating
with love
and drawing me
closer
until I was
embraced
by her glow.