Fiction, Flash Fiction, Love and Lust, Microliterature, Passion's Invocation, Romance

Just Act

Just Act

Celeste2

Celeste stared out the window not seeing the bounty of scenery rolling by. She held a coffee in one hand focusing her energy on not trembling. She felt that her entire life had conspired to bring her to this day, this train, and this life altering decision.

 

She had not wanted to be here. There were no plans and no preparation for this. Nothing in her twenty eight years of school, training, work and regimen which had hinted that she would find herself at this precipice now, today, at this very moment.

 

Her fingers shook and coffee spilled splashing her slight hand. It had long since gone cold. Celeste didn’t care. It was the exercise, the determination it took to hold a tangible object steady despite herself. Celeste just needed to hold the cup as evidence that she was, and would remain, steady.

 

She dabbed a napkin to her hand as her thoughts reclaimed her, my background was entirely reputable. I’m educated, knowledgeable and well spoken. My breeding is impeccable. There isn’t a blemish to be found anywhere in my life history, until now.

 

Celeste started down the narrow corridor in search of sustenance when a thought occurred that nearly knocked her to her knees. She froze, thinking, Terror! That’s what this is! I’m absolutely, utterly terrified!

 

She propelled herself forward with a forced smile, until she retrieved food and drink, and then resisted the urge to run back to her solace. Upon drawing the curtain, she murmured, “I don’t think I’ve ever been so overwhelmed. It’s as if I’ve never felt anything until now – and I’ve never been so well acquainted with terror.”

 

She had left her apartment three nights ago for a girl’s night out and did not return until this morning. That alone was exceedingly rare for her, but she met a man that first night, Clay Collier, and she was forever changed.

 

Celeste had felt an instant connection, but more than that, she felt as if lightning had struck her and was still singing in her veins, still searing her very soul. She didn’t know whether to laugh aloud or vomit.

 

She had spent the first night in a local cafe with both of them talking, laughing, a reassuring touch, whispered secrets, shared confessions, and edging slightly closer. Neither of them was willing to let the night end. They had ended up at his flat. Celeste knew that they belonged together. That was not in question.

Clay had looked into her eyes and straight down into her soul, saying, “You are my destiny, Celeste. I have to return to Italy tonight. Come to Verona and marry me. I love you more than life. We are meant to be. Say yes, Celeste. Don’t think beyond your first response. Just act.”

 

She kissed him passionately, embracing him as if for the last time, and said, “I will come and I will give you my answer in Verona.”

 

Clay clutched her to his solid frame, breathing her in and memorizing her face, etching this moment into his soul, and not wanting to consider that she may not come.

 

Celeste could barely pry her fingers from his arms. They had spent two days and three nights together, loving wildly, savagely, living as though propelled in a dream state, like an alternate universe where they had always been together, yet were suddenly together and new. It made no sense but made perfect sense to her.

 

She hurried back to her apartment, breaking the lease to vacate. She packed what she could carry and checked as many bags as possible. She had not returned to or called work. She hadn’t called anyone. That was another world which was her past now. It had no bearing on her future.

 

With several strokes of a pen and some packing, she had essentially checked out on her life and an exceedingly bright future. She was stunned at how easy it was to drop off the face of the earth. She knew friends and family would think her dead. I’ll have to repair the relationships later, she summarized.

 

The flights were interminable, giving her several moments of pause as she lost sight of land for long periods and now, on the final leg of the trip, she had time to reflect – and feel terrified.

 

By Wildfire8470

wildfire8470-logo

© 12/10/2019 – All Rights Reserved

Copyrighted.com Registered & Protected

#fiction #flashfiction #flasher #microfiction #SlapDashSat #romance #wickedwednesday #WiP

Fiction, Flash Fiction, Microliterature, Passion's Invocation, slapdashsaturday

Survival Skills

  Survival Skills

Image from:  https://unchartedsupplyco.com/blogs/news/basic-survival-skills

Sara lay on a dirt and rock floor, too stunned to discern one pain from the next. 

 

One moment she had been hiking, laughing with friends, and planning to stop for the night. The next was an ill-fated step that sent her falling, immediately dropping through trees and then tumbling hard to land with an abrupt thud. 

 

Sara surmised that she must have fallen into a canyon, below the mountain they were hiking, but couldn’t imagine she would have survived the fall. Her backpack was still with her. It’s a plain miracle, she mused, Thank you, Jesus!

 

She looked up, trying to see where she had fallen from, but it was too dark to determine. Slowly, she pulled her aching body to a sitting position as breathing was restored. 

 

She ran one hand over her head and arms, checking for blood and broken bones. “Even my bruises have bruises,” she muttered, peering into the murky darkness miserably, searching for anything resembling shelter. Unable to make anything out, she extracted a flint from her backpack.

 

A welcoming warmth illuminated the night and a long, low scream was wrenched from her soul as she realized she was not sitting in the safety of a canyon floor. The fall had cast her onto a small shelf on the side of the mountain. The darkness she had stared into would be sudden death with a single step.

 

By Wildfire8470

 

 

#amwriting #amwritingfiction #lotsofbooklove #saturdayflash #saturdaysharetheloveday #SlapDashSat #writingcommunity #writerslift #writelife #writerslife #amwriting #amwritingfiction #lotsofbooklove #saturdayflash #saturdaysharetheloveday #SlapDashSat #writingcommunity #writerslift #writelife #writerslife

 

 

 

 

 

Flash Fiction, Microliterature, Microliterature, Passion's Invocation, Psychological Fiction

Gennalise Chalcedony

Gennalise Chalcedony

Gennalise

Shelly was seventeen years and three hundred sixty four days old, a straight A student and the apple of her father’s eye. She donned her school uniform hoping it would be the last time, and thinking, I’m so excited and nervous I could just throw up.

 

 

She wondered how she would lie to her parents. She had never done that before. To focus her mind on less unsettling thoughts, she got up to retrieve her books and spun her head, throwing a wide smile into the mirror with a backwards glance, trying to imitate a movie star she had seen at the theater. Not bad, Miss Gennalise Chalcedony! Not bad at all!

 

 

She called herself by an alias she’d thought of. One more fitting for the big city and the grand  stage. “You know,” she whispered in her southern drawl and winking at her reflection, “for when you’re a big star!”

 

 

She smoothed her hair and tucked some escaped  tendrils behind her ear. She was the picture of innocence as she ascended the stairs for breakfast. Her stomach churned, knowing this would have to be a perfect performance.

 

 

Shelly mumbled her way through breakfast trying hard not to meet her parents eyes. They were always so ebullient in the morning, effervescent with questions about her daily goals. Any other time, she would have felt refreshed and welcomed the attention but this day, not so much.

 

 

She managed to escape their barrage of morning questions, saying her stomach was upset. At least, I didn’t have to lie about that, she comforted herself, surmising, I’ve always been a nice Catholic girl. I never once told them a lie but, suddenly I’m waist deep in lies! God, I no longer need a push broom. I need a snow shovel!

 

 

She rolled her eyes trying to calm her fears and rubbing the bills together for the bus ticket she would purchase, whispering, “I hope you’re right, Mr. Samuel. Smoot but, you wouldn’t be funding my audition if you didn’t have a really good instinct about me. I’m going to be a huge star!”

 

 

 

By Wildfire8470

wildfire8470-logo

 

© September 6, 2019 at 2:16 AM – All Rights Reserved

Reproduction or republication of this content, without written consent from author,  is prohibited without permission.

Copyrighted.com Registered & Protected

 

Abuse, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Institutionalization, Miscellaneous, Poetry, Poetry + Prose, Poetry + Prose, Prose, Psychological Fiction, Short Stuff Sunday

Glorious Bird

Glorious Bird

I am a glorious bird

Placed on the windowsill

Where I am free to watch

All that composes me

Everything I am made of

And all that’s bread into me

I am perched upon shelf

Staring out at freedom

Knowing my keeper loves me

Enough to value safety

Over life and deed

So clipped my glorious wings

Leaving me free

To envy in others

Everything that I am

Rendered useless to do and dream.

 

 

By Wildfire8470

© August 18, 2019 at 10:53 PM

Reproduction of this content is strictly prohibited without written consent from the original author

Copyrighted.com Registered & Protected

 

 

 

 

Fiction, Passion's Invocation, Romance, Short Stuff Sunday

The Thing about Forever

The Thing about Forever

Marcus and Violet

They were willing prisoners too comfortable in the confines of a short honeymoon phase with entirely too much in between. They had run far and fast enough, escaping the families that opposed them. He had slipped her hand into his, threading his fingers through hers, as they approached the chapel doors. The moon rose up full in the sky and she took it as omen that, at least, god approved their union.

Everything about the day was beautiful because she was with him, finally, alone, uninterrupted by the rudeness that was her life prior. She had survived so much and knew now that this was why. Marcus hit the accelerator and colorful leaves clouded in the wake of his car as she watched the countryside turn into molten gold and fiery reds that shamed the sunlight and flames in her heart.

Violet wanted this imagery, every single leaf that had fallen from trees, daylight sparking fire in the highlights in his hair, the easy conversation and the comfortable quietness, the wind rippling his shirt against his taut body, the last of summer’s warmth, and knowing the night air would be chilled. Violet needed to memorize every second with him now, every perfect moment, because nothing would ever be exactly this way again.

She leaned back into his shoulder, listening to the breeze carry his voice away as he pointed out landmarks and that which he recalled fondly, wanting to share with her. She gave him a nearly untroubled smile wishing this second would last forever and knowing it couldn’t – and wouldn’t. She loved him with her heart near to bursting with emotion, knowing even then that it would not be enough to sustain a lifetime.

They had lain in the tall grass ready to fulfill their mutual cravings offering up perfect, wanton lovemaking along with the beautiful innocence of two so untried and that unrepentant souls can muster, here in this place where two souls unite in ecstasy’s death in culmination at last.

Violet would remember. She would cling to this moment, vehemently, as no other could. Every movement; his hand stroking her hair, her cheek, their impure desires, the angle of the slightly bashful new moon, their bodies pressed  together, the heat of commingling all made perfect in marriage.

This was beginning and end which would afford her warmth, in recall, that she may need in a thousand years or the space of another breath. Nothing, she knew with paramount certainty, would ever be as special, awkward, innocently loving, and as lovely, as this momentous second.

Marcus slowed the pace, asking “Are you hungry, Violet? Do you want to stop?”

But she knew that the reality of anything concrete was enough to break the spell which had carried them this far and though it was already too late, though something in her heart slipped as the smile slid from his lips, she closed her eyes against the sadness of torn time-space continuum, replying, “Just keep driving, Marcus. Drive forever.”

By Wildfire8470

wildfire8470-logo

© September 24, 2018 at 12:49 PM – All Rights Reserved

Reproduction or republication of this content is prohibited without prior written permission.

Copyrighted.com Registered & Protected

 

 

 

Fantasy, Fiction, Romance

Between the Devil and the Deep, Part 1

Part 1:  Sirina

 

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

© sergephoto

 

He spent the afternoon on the beach walking in the surf and trying to clear his mind. Layoffs were imminent and he couldn’t afford to get the axe now. Jake was a benevolent man and caring for his family came to him as naturally as breathing. Still, he was just a man with just a little bit of ‘the devil may care’ in him.

He turned to walk the half mile back to his car when something made him stop and look back. Jake stared into the distance trying to discern what it was.

A sound? No, more like something haunting me that’s trying to breach the surface.

He started back toward the car when it happened again. Jake looked to the heavens, saying aloud, “You’re messing with me, right? This is punishment for taking more than one wife?”

Jake regrouped long enough to wonder how he would appear to anyone that might be watching; standing here alone, imploring the gods, tossing his arms up and speaking to no one there. He shook his head laughing at himself thinking, It’s stress. It’s always stress. That’s what drives rational men mad.

Again the feeling interrupted his thoughts. It was something akin to a gentle tugging at his heart, which made him turn fully to look over his shoulder. Then he saw her.

No shit! No way!

Jake stood transfixed, mesmerized at the sight of her and unable to think. He forced his focused enough to believe he wasn’t imagining her, but didn’t dare move suddenly for fear of frightening her away.

Sirena propped herself on the shore drying her gossamer locks in the evening sunset. Her fiery hair tumbled carelessly down her back as she breathed in the salt-sea air, the vast ocean, and the long expanse of deserted beach. She loved everything about her life; carefree days, full moon nights, warm sunset evenings and wide open spaces; everything that was her freedom.

Only half believing his eyes, Jake made his way down the beach, approaching her with caution, while trying to make sense of the scene before him. The beach had been deserted all evening, not another soul around yet, suddenly, there was a half-naked beauty stretching lazily in the spot where he’d stood fifteen minutes ago.

But it’s more than that, He thought. It’s as if she radiates all the goodness in the world; like she’s emanating the purity of, love.

Jake would have sworn he’d been sluicing through a desert and she was a mirage.  He was close enough to touch her shoulder but she showed no modesty, nothing that spoke of shame or covering herself in his presence. She sat at water’s edge, playfully dangling her legs in the waves as he stood stock-still searching for an opening line.

“Good evening.”

He raked his hand through tousled hair wondering if she had actually spoken.

Did I imagine it? She’s not real. I’m not real. None of this is real! Jake scolded himself; I’m probably in the car having some freaky, stressed-out, highway hypnosis or something.

“Isn’t it customarily polite to speak when spoken to?”

Her back was still to him but this time Jake was sure.

“I’m sorry, miss, I didn’t… ah, hello,” He offered, moving to sit beside her, “I’m,”

Sirena turned eyes to him and he tripped over his tongue, “Stunned,” He finished.

“You’re stunned? That’s your name,” She teased.

“Jake,” He corrected, offering his hand, “I’m sorry, I guess I am a little…” Jake stopped, still unable to tear his eyes from hers, “How, What, Where the devil did you come from,” He asked, still disbelieving his own eyes.

“I’m Sirena. Good to meet you too.”

Did she say that? I’m starting right at her and I don’t know if her lips moved.

“The pleasure is all mine,” He returned, “How did I not see you sooner,” He asked, “I’ve been here all evening.”

“I’m sure you have many burdens and I was pretty far out,” She answered, watching him scan the sea for a boat or diving gear.

“Where are you from Sirena?”

“Oh, you know,” she evaded, “I’m a child of the world.”

“I guess you’ve traveled a lot,” He asked, attempting small talk.

“You could say that,” She replied with a nonchalant shrug as she sensed the change of tide even before she felt it.

Jake knew he was already head over heart in love with her but knew, as well, that all of this was just too surreal.

“It’s getting late,” Sirena whispered, not quite realizing why that fact made her feel melancholy, “I have to go soon.”

“No wait,” He plead urgently, “Can I see you again?”

Sirena couldn’t fathom why she was drawn to Jake, or to anything that could jeopardize the life she had now.

The turn of the tide is a warning. The pull of the moon is trying to lure me out of this, this… this!

“Sirena, please. I must see you again,” He pressed.

“Do you believe in mermaids, Jake,” She probed.

“What?”

“Do you,” She demanded point blank.

“Okay, yes. Sure. Can I see you tomorrow?”

Sirena slipped into the water saying, “Meet me tomorrow at sunset.”

“Okay,” He smiled, tentatively relieved, “I’ll be here. Wait! Why did you ask about mermaids?”

She smiled up at him and stated matter-of-factly, “Because I’m about to test your meddle.”

With that she ducked below the surface and the last thing Jake saw was a fishtail that slapped the ocean powering her departure.

 

 

By Wildfire8470

Wildfire8470

 

 

 

 

 

 

Between the Devil and the Deep, Part 2 –>

 

© December 03, 2015 – 11:21 PM – All Rights Reserved
Copyrighted.com Registered & Protected  KEA9-IT5V-BVAA-UXAC