Fiction Friday: [The Pursuit of Love]

[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.

Moxie Monday: The Choice is Yours

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Fiction Friday: [Bedtime Story]

[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]

Moxie Monday: Get Up

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Fiction Friday: [Honey, I'm Home]

[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. 

Moxie Monday: Ignite

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Fiction Friday: [Reset | Delicate Cycle]

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.

Moxie Monday: Dive In

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