Healing - MWBB

The song from last weeks Mid-Week Blues-Buster I enjoyed thoroughly, but finding a story was hard. I do like what I wrote, but it didn't have a special kicker with it, so didn't really get noticed amongst all the other entries, which were so good.

The prompt song this week was:

Nil Lara - How was I to Know?

She walked out onto the balcony, leaving the raucous noise of the party behind her, and leaned out, looking along the beach. She spotted him some distance away sitting on top of a dune.

She kicked off her shoes and made her way to him, digging her feet hard into the sand to reach the top of the dune, plonking herself down beside him once she got there. He sat looking out to sea, arms hanging loosely over the top of his pulled up knees, a bottle of beer still in one hand.

He glanced at her and smiled.

She asked, “You okay? Not up to partying?”

“Nah, not really.”

He proffered the bottle and she took a swig, following his gaze out to sea.

“I’m sorry Meg, I shouldn’t have come.”

“On the contrary Gerry, I’m glad you did. I wanted you here.”

He smiled at her, his eyes twinkling in the dying light. “Did you now?”

“Yeah, it’s been too long since you came to one of my shindigs; they’re not the same without you.”

“I’m getting too old for this kind of partying.”

Meg laughed out loud and he joined her.

“Old? You don’t know what old is yet boy. You’re still a babe in arms!”

He grinned taking another swig from the bottle. “You’re not THAT much old than me.”

She grinned back at him. “I know.” Then she put a hand on his arm. “I know you’re hearts heavy right now.” His smile faltered. “But you’ve turned down all my offers of a one on one meet ups, so I thought maybe in a crowd you’d feel safer.”

A frown creased his brow. “You know me too well.”

“Yeah I do. And sometimes that ain’t good for either of us.” She took the bottle from him and swallowed a mouthful hoping that it would keep her buzz going and she wouldn’t say anything she’d regret. She refused to make eye contact, instead looking out at the horizon, waiting for him to speak.

He sighed. “I feel stupid. I thought she was the one. We even got married. And when it started to derail I thought I could get it back on track, but she wasn’t interested. I tried everything. I kept hoping, you know?”

Meg nodded. “Been there done that, as you well know.”

“Brad?”

“Yep.”

He nodded.

“So what do I do now?”

“Pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and keep on moving forward.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know how to do that.”

“You’ve got to let her go Gerry. She’s gone, and she ain’t coming back.”

“But…”

“There are no buts sweetie, it’s out of your hands.”

“So I failed.”

“You can’t look at it like that. Society wants us to, but sometimes relationships don’t work out and that’s okay – as long as you tried, you didn’t fail. You had your time together, remember it fondly, but accept that it’s over. Be sad, grieve for it even, but then move on, and remember that there is still life out there, a life you can be a part of.”

He held her gaze, giving her a small smile. “Wise words.”

“Yeah, and they took me a long time to learn, I promise you!”

His smile grew to a grin. “Is that what getting old brings then?”

Meg laughed. “Absolutely.” She waggled the bottle. “This is empty. Come on, come back to the party. It’s no fun without you.”

His eyes sparkled at her again, and she ignored the flutter in her stomach. He stood up and dusted the sand off his shorts, reaching out a hand, to help her stand up too. As they walked back to the house he put his arm round her and pulled her into him, kissing the top of her head. “Thanks. I needed that.” She put her arm round his waist, and said, “Anytime.”

They walked in silence, until the sounds from the house greeted them. Then Meg looked up at Gerry and said, “And now it’s time to get you drunk.”

He threw back his head laughing, and said, “Definitely.”  

Five Sentence Fiction - Clutch

Another great photo for the Five Sentence Fiction prompt this week. I had to write for it.

The nightmare was over, he was home, and the transformation was complete as she threw herself into his arms. 

The little boy was so relieved, he clutched at his father’s legs hoping he would never leave again. 

He barely knew this man, but he knew that his mother had stopped shouting at him since the letter had arrived about his homecoming. And he knew he’d been allowed his tea every night since. And he hoped it meant he’d never see the inside of the trunk under the stairs again.

Daily Picspiration - Time and Motion Part 2

My Daily Picspiration piece went up today.

I struggled with how I was going to follow on from the first part, and spent a lot of time with the idea of sim and time parallels in my head, considering both, trying not to make it too 'Matrix' or 'Sliders/Quantum Leap'. I might have ended up with 'Jumper', but still working it out. I have put in another cliff hanger, just to keep the reader interested and give me time to think about where I want this to go!

You can read 'Time and Motion - Part 2' here.


 

Love Struck - MWBB

Last weeks Mid-Week Blues-Buster was a difficult one for me, and although it didn't get placed, I liked the piece I wrote for it, and it stayed with my present run on horror pieces.

The prompt song this week was:

 Jose Gonzalez - Cover of 'Heartbeats' by The Knife

He inhaled deeply, still able to smell her on the pillow. It brought a warm feeling in his stomach, and yet the sadness still pulled. He touched the pillowcase, imagining its warmth. He wished he could embrace her.

He’s eyes flicked to the window and he looked out at the new day that was dawning; it would be cold and icy no matter how hard the sun shone, and he wouldn’t dare to step out into it, he had to stay here otherwise he might never find his way back. And he wanted to be here, to see her again.

As though his thought brought her, she arrived, only this time not alone. He watched her do a dance with her guest, one he was familiar with and that sad feeling came again, tugging at him. Did he really want to remain? His heart told him ‘yes’, so he waited as she worked her magic.

When the moon rose later that evening, he saw the sparkle in her eye as she dressed. He sniffed as she sprayed her perfume, wanting to remember the freshness of it, wanting to be a part of the evening with her. Although when she returned he became a part he hadn’t anticipated: a witness.

She enticed her guest to join her on the balcony so they could look out at the starlit evening, over the city which was still cooling down after the hot day. She stirred desire, kissing them and wrapping herself around them, drawing out their passion, their wanting, until she brought them back inside.

Then she handed over the reigns, letting them do the work, undressing her and moving her around as though she were a play thing, eventually leading her to the bed.

He watched them from the other side of the bed, powerless to be heard, to be seen, or try and stop it. And when she rose majestically on top, he watched her eyes as she waited for the right moment to bend down and kiss round her victim’s neck - before sinking her teeth in and ripping it out.

He watched the body go stiff under her, and an ethereal figure appear beside the bed. Then it spotted him, with questioning and hurt in its eyes. He could only mouth ‘sorry’ as he watched it fade and turn to the balcony, drifting away through the glass.

He remained where he was, refusing to leave, punishing himself for his stupidly by watching her devour her kill. 

Five Sentence Fiction - Moon

This weeks Five Sentence Fiction offered an enticing photo. Here's what I came up with.

Adele missed just having one moon to look up at. She missed normal tides and not the raging ocean that now made going to the beach impossible; between the deafening noise, and the roiling mass of white water, there was little point.

Instead she liked to park up on the cliff overlooking the water and contemplate how it came to be - why the mass that had travelled so far, had decided to stop and orbit their planet. She pondered the recent gossip that it was a space station and not a planet, biding its time, waiting to attack; surely that was science fiction induced silly talk, wasn’t it? There was no way there could really be aliens up there, there was no such thing.

Dousing the Fire - MWBB - WINNER!

To start off the New Year - and first day back at school. I found out this morning, that my Mid-Week Blues-Buster entry from last week was a Winner! I really enjoyed this piece, as it was going back to my horror roots. There was a moment when I thought it might go all hopeful and romantic, but I stayed on track! I hope you enjoy it. 

The prompt song this week was:

  Make it Rain, by Tom Waits 

John was soaked to the skin and all he could hear in his head were the lyrics ‘make it rain’. It had rained and rained heavily in his life, he’d been blessed with so much. But despite the present torrential downpour in the real world, the drought in his personal life had just begun and he was getting ready to enter the desert. 

He could feel himself burning already, with all the emotions, but there was one he could put a stop to; one he could clear up, and he looked forward to it. Under the light of a passing car his grin lit up.

He checked his pocket again to reassure himself as he arrived at the apartment block. The night lights surrounding the building reflected the rain and gave it a sinister feel, one he hadn’t seen on his previous visits. But then he knew what he was about to do, and he smiled at the prospect.

He pressed all the security buzzers to the apartments, except the one he intended to call on; he knew someone would open the door without questioning it. Seconds later he was taking the stairs two at a time, the adrenaline giving his legs more strength than they usually had, and in moments he was at the front door.

John stood there breathing, letting his heart rate reduce as he thought about his next move. He brought the key out of his pocket, but knew the occupant better than that; he simply turned the handle and found the door unlocked.

It was dark inside and he stood in the lounge listening. It wasn’t long before their moans reached him. He knew they’d be busy, and it seemed they’d been busy for years longer than their lies had declared.

He took the knife out of his pocket and enjoyed the weight of it in his gloved hand. It was one from her favourite set; a Christmas gift he’d spoiled her with all those years ago, when giving knives to your wife was a perfectly normal thing to do and no doubt would creep into your head about how they could be used against you one day. He rubbed at the freshly healed wound on his ribcage. He tried to stem the pain it sparked, but it was internal now, and twisted itself up, wanting to scream its betrayal. He would quell it in a moment.

John stepped towards the bedroom door, the thick carpet soaking up the sound. Mark had always insisted on having the best of everything, never caring about the cost, maybe that was why he’d been able to do this so easily to his friend, with no remorse as the sounds coming through the door demonstrated. He stopped to listen again, and like coals to the fire, it helped his rage swell, and enabled him to believe his plans were rational.

He turned the doorknob fraction by fraction, using their moans to cover each movement. Then he opened the door a crack at a time, their writhing bodies coming into view, silhouetted by the light from the window. They hadn’t even had the decency to close the curtains.

His movement became fluid as he rushed to the bedside and thrust the knife into the back of whoever was on top. It took a couple of seconds for the body underneath to register what was happening, enough for John to pull the knife out and douse their screams in a flood of blood with a swift stroke to the neck.

As soon as he was done he dropped the knife, knowing the rest of the set was already here, along with the rest of the things she had moved over after their fight the week before. He left as quietly as he had entered, shutting all the doors, leaving it as he found it – well, almost, then using the stairs again, before letting the rain wash him clean of any residue.

Only once on the plane the following day, did he allow himself a thought about it, and acknowledge the tremble in his hands. But he could work that out in time, something he had plenty of now. 

Five Sentence Fiction - Moments

This weeks Five Sentence Fiction prompt and photo couldn't be missed, it spoke volumes, giving so much scoop, although with that photo there was only once place I was going to go.

Maddy stared down at his beautiful, sleeping face, off in dreamland, and let the tears roll down her face; she couldn’t believe that her body had created something, or someone, so incredible.

She stroked his hair and started singing ‘Sandman’ softly, trying not to choke on the line ‘make him the cutest I’ve ever seen’, and watched the smile spread across his face. He asked her to sing to him every night, and even though he was almost five years old she couldn’t not; she’d do anything to bring this little person joy and happiness.

She faltered as she wondered how her own mother could have treated her children as she did, remembering the harsh tones, followed by cruel words, and occasionally a slap whenever she had needed comfort; how could she have been so cold and un-giving?

But however haunted Maddy might be by those memories, she knew that for own children they would never be a reality; she would embrace every moment.  

Daily Picspiration - Time and Motion - Part 1

My Daily Picspiration piece went up today.

Both the pictures spoke to me this time and produced something I am quite excited about, although at this point I have no idea where I am going with it - I have a vague notion, and will follow that. It's been a while since I have done any Science Fiction so I am looking forward to the change. I am worried about it turning into a cliché though so we will have to see what comes during the new few instalments. 

You can read 'Time and Motion - Part 1' here.

Creature Comforts - MWBB

This weeks Mid-Week Blues-Buster brought a different kind of song, one that didn't work well for me, so I used the lyrics for inspiration. It's a short piece, not one of my finest, but one that is rings true for me. Enjoy

The Song Prompt for this weeks was:

In a Lonely Place, by The Smithereens

It was only the washing line, but when it snapped it felt like the last string of sanity that had held her together through this nightmare.

Gemma sank down to the floor, propped up by the corners of the kitchen cabinets. Her sobs wracked her entire body with no end in sight. She relived the moment he’d walked out the door, and the urge she’d had to fling herself at his legs and hold onto him and stop him walk out the door. She wanted to beg him to stay, but she hadn’t, after watching her mother do it when her father left she knew it wouldn’t make any difference.

She never imagined it would end; she imagined that this was them set for the rest of their lives. She couldn’t believe that the decision had been made over a simple argument about doing a First Aid course, but it hadn’t really been the course had it? It had been about the fact that he hadn’t wanted to do it with her, and he hadn’t wanted to do anything with her for more than six months now.

She had no idea how it had broken, but it had, and she couldn’t fix it.

Eventually the tears stopped, but she remained where she was, still hitching. She knew she had to get up even though she didn’t want to. She wondered what would happen if she didn’t, if she sat there forever; would anyone notice? Would anyone care?

One of the cats came over and put a paw on her leg, looking at her with worried eyes. Gemma’s heart squeezed with the love for her cat Millie, right there and then. She loved them like they were her children – people even thought they were when she talked about them.

She reached out her hand and Millie pushed her head against it, her purr starting up, deep and reassuring. Then she stepped into Gemma’s lap and curled up in one move.

Tears flooded Gemma’s eyes and poured down her face, dripping onto her top and onto Millie’s fur, causing her skin to twitch at each drop. In the deep darkness Gemma found light and comfort. She was grateful for that.