Writing Prompt – Song Lyric

Prompt:

Use the lyrics of a favorite song as the basis for a short story

It quiets down around them as the next song starts up, and with a haunting voice, she sings her favorite opening line.

I am not in love, but I’m open to persuasion.”

As she starts with the first cords for the verse, her eyes catch his.

The same guy that has been at the last five shows all over Texas. They don’t have groupies yet. This is not a coincidence, she thinks.

She drops her mike and jumps of the stage.

“Mandy, finish up!” She yells and takes off.

He just made his way to an exit and she is not losing him again.

“Wait! Stop! STOP!” she yells as he turns a corner, she runs after him and comes to an abrupt halt as she turns the corner and runs into him.

His arms are around her in an instant, to steady her, but having him so close is just making her more unstable.

“Why have you been following us?” she stammers as she struggles to find her breath.

“No one captures the world like you do…” he says in a breathless voice, “I am not a stalker. I just need to see you, to remember you are real.”

She extracts herself from his arms and frowns up into his ocean deep eyes.

“What if I’m not?”

“Real?” he asks.

“Yes. What if what you make of me is just in your head? Then getting to know me would only destroy me.”

“Sure. But wouldn’t you rather chance it, than never knowing?”

“No one can live up to some one’s expectation of them.”

“I can.”

“I don’t even know you, how can I have any expectations for you?”

“Exactly, no expectations are very easy to live up to.”

“I think I might just enjoy you.” She smiles, happy to realize there is someone who can keep up with her train of thought.

“Good,” he returns the smile and bends down.

Slowly, he places a soft kiss on her lips and then, realizing there is no resistance, he grabs her hips and pushes her up against a wall. He kisses her until they are both breathless and let go. He hovers just above her face and mutters, “You are magnificent. Given the chance, I might just fall in love.”

“I rarely fall in love…” she replies.

“Are you open to some persuasion?” he asks, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear and tracing the line of her neck with a single finger.

“Always…” she answers as she pulls him in for another kiss.

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An unexpected obstacle… – Flash Fiction

Why hello there, it’s been a while.

Well, here is a little on the spot flash fiction to tie you over while I get back into my writing groove.

This piece was inspired by a prompt on Today’s Author Write Now Prompt’s.

An unexpected obstacle

At last, she was getting out of this town. 

This little hick of a town was working on her last nerve. But, finally, she saved enough to up and go. And this was her last chance. Tomorrow she is suppose to marry Rick. Rick, the golden boy. Rick, the guy every one thought was perfect for her. Well, obviously, they have never been in an argument with him and had to hide the bruises for weeks on end.

This is it.

This is freedom.

She looks over her shoulder as she exits the coffee shop just across from the bus stop where her getaway car is awaiting the last passengers. Pretend carefree she walks across the street and look at some posters on the bus stop, with another glance around, she walks closer to the bus and with a last look over her shoulder she reaches out to grab onto the handle. But her hand is grabbed instead.

“Excuse me?!” she exclaims as she turns her head around and her breath stops in her throat.

William…

Her eyes grow big and she tries to shake the feeling off her back, he would never bust her. Not to Rick. But on the other hand, he does work for Rick. But, he has also seen the bruises, the abuse, the horror…

“Will, let me go.” She doesn’t ask, she demands. If Rick taught her one thing, it is to always act if you are going to get exactly what you want, then you will probably get it..

Instead of letting go, he gets out of the bus and take her with him, the grip on her forearm stronger than she expected from him,

“Elizah, you are not save.”

“I know! That is why I am running away. Now let me!”

“You don’t understand, he has people looking out for you, he thought you would do something like this. He had me waiting on the bus for you, and Darius is waiting at the airport.”

“You know, I am stronger than you think… I have a few tricks of my own.”

With a condescending glance to her side he laughs, “sure, E.” 

“Okay… So you got me. Now what.”

“Now we are running away.”

With a tug at her arm he leads her to his Chevy standing in an alley, gives her a big floppy hat and helps her into the car.

“To our future, love…”

“To the future…” she replies with a sneaky look in her eyes.

 

You’re not always right…

I’m a bit stuck in my writing ways (let’s blame it on my muse) and when I saw todays’ Write Now prompt, I knew it was meant to yank me out of my writing rut.

So here goes nothing…

Prompt – 

He closed his eyes and let his head loll back — he’s gotten it wrong again.

 

“You’re not always right, you know,” she jokes with a smile and takes a sip of her Jack on the rocks. They sit in silence, staring up at the stars as the words hang between them. He knowing it’s not a complete jest and her knowing it’s going to get a reaction sooner or later. He hates being wrong…
 
He sucks on the Marlboro hanging between his fingers and glares at her sideways, “yes?” he says, formed as a question, that could mean everything and nothing, and she knows he wants her to elaborate before he gives a reaction.
 
“You think that I’m just messing around, I’m not. I’m not serious, but I’m not messing around. And also, old man… I’m not a little girl anymore, I can handle myself.”
 
Another dose of silence follows, she hates this, he knows, but he enjoys seeing the frustration building behind that ever-changing greenish eyes of hers. He studies her faces, trying to get a read, but as usual, he comes up blank. He usually pretends his way out of these situations with her, going about as if he knows her thoughts, but not really having a clue, good thing for him is that she usually shares it sooner or later, sometimes without even knowing. 
 
Another drag on the Marlboro, another sip of Jack and then he speaks, noticing that her eyes are on the point of going bright green, a sure sign that she is getting annoyed, or horny. He could work with both.
 
“So your point, crazy cat lady?” 
 
She rolls her eyes and he hides a grin behind his whiskey tumbler.
 
“My point, grumpy old man, is that you shouldn’t make assumptions over what I’m feeling. I am NOT in love with you, who could be? You’re arrogant, you’re selfish, you’re stubborn, you’re pretentious and you NEVER show interest. And no, what just happen in there,” she jerks a thumb towards the bedroom, “doesn’t count as ‘showing interest’. It just means we were both here, and willing.”
 
 “Yes?” he replies and she slams her glass down on the table
 
“What does ‘yes…’ mean? Say something!”
 
“You are too young. And naive. It’s not a bad thing. But at this moment, it’s not a good thing.”
 
She close her eyes and lean back, her hand rubbing the small of her neck, a sure sign that she is gonna lose it soon. He traces a finger up the seam of her jeans, and scratches back down. He feels the muscles of her leg tightening and knows, he’s got her back. He hates it when she goes on these missions to try to figure out what is happening. 
He enjoys her, and that’s that, what more does she needs? And even if she needs more and won’t get it, he knows she won’t walk out of this room. She never has before…
 
She grabs his hand and their eyes connect over the table, through cigarette smoke and mist.
 
“I’m done, old man.”
 
And she’s gone… Bewildered he looks around, not believing she would leave. Not her. 
But it’s true, she got tired of his games… 
His head lolls back and he looks up to the sky, to the stars she loved so much.
He was wrong. Twice in one evening.
First, in believing she wouldn’t leave
and, secondly, in believing it wouldn’t hurt if she did…
 
“I’m done, old man,” her words echo in his head as he drowns her with Jack.
 
Please note, the above is FICTION… 
 
Love Always,
M

FWF – The story behind her eyes…

Time for another Free Write Friday post, hosted by the lovely Miss Kellie Elmore

Here is your FWF prompt:

Tell me about this girl…

2014-04-08 09.52.48

It was almost closing time when she came in, the kitchen was already closed, as it was minutes past midnight, and there was only one or two tables left.

“Sorry miss, kitchen’s closed.” I said as she walked over to the corner booth.

“I just want tea,” she said, her eyes on the table, her words so soft I had to lean in to hear them.

I walk to the counter and make the tea, tired after 12 hours on my feet, and I look at her while the water boils. Her waist length black hair is hanging like a curtain around her, shielding her from the world, her thin frame is hunched over the table, bundled up in jackets. 

Then she looks up, and the world stands still. Her eyes are soft grey, and sad, the kind of sad that makes you want to cry along. She makes eye contact very briefly and looks away into the corner, so intrigued by the piece of wall, I had to look over to make sure there wasn’t another world over there.

“Here’s your tea, miss.”

I put the tea down, a bit harder than necessary and a few drops spills out, drips onto her hand. But she doesn’t even flinch, or react at all. Then I notice all the other marks on her hands, cuts, burns, blister, rope burns. She is still looking at that piece of wall, like there is a movie playing just for her.

“What are ya lookin’ at?” I ask before I can stop myself.

She looks up to me, straight into my eyes, and I feel my heart beating faster, the eye contact is holding, more than just a few seconds this time.

“Don’t you see it?” She replies, that same soft voice, making me lean in to hear the words.

“What?” I ask, confused.

Then she shakes her head, just slightly, and looks up to me again, “Thank you for the tea.”

I walk away slowly, not sure what just happened, or what I will do if I stand around any longer.

“Do you know her?” I ask the shift manager, leaning against the counter on her elbows

“Ethan, dear boy, don’t.”

“What??” I ask, offended.

“She does this, makes people fall for her, with that sad eyes, and that breaking vulnerability, but she’s fierce, and weird, and a little bit crazy.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, you’re already in there… all the way. She’s bad news.” 

I shake my head at Clare’s silliness and walk over to Grey Eyes again, “ya still all right over here?”

She looks up, there’s the eye contact again, “perfect… Just lonely. Sit?”

I can hear the question mark after the word, but the look in her eyes is making it feel like an order. I look around the cafe and notice that all the other tables left. I sit down, slowly, afraid I might startle her. She looks like a dove that could scatter with a single pebble thrown at her.

“You don’t see it do you?”

She looks at me, but not like before, almost past me, to another world, another universe. Her eyes get really big, horribly big as she sees something, only she can see, just over my shoulder.

“See what?” I ask, imitating her soft voice, once again, scared of startling her.

“All the souls… Hanging out here… They want to go… But they don’t know where… I should help them… I tried… That’s why… They needed an out… I was helping…” She’s talking in short, nonsensical sentences.

Then she touches my hand and look up into my eyes. For a second it was just her and me and then as she blinked, the whole cafe filled with people. Not people, actually, these semi-solid floating figures. All sad, some still suspended in the act that caused their death, others just hanging, not sure what to do, where to go.

I look at Grey Eyes, and turn around, trying to look for Clare, but I can’t see anything through the figures. 

“Why do you see them? Why do I see them?”

She looks at me, her head cocked to one side, like she’s trying to understand my question and then her reply comes, almost inaudible.

“Because I killed them…”

This was one of those stories that started as one thing, and then escalated, very quickly in to something else with no control…

It’s not my best work, but I was just sick of writing love stories, and I wasn’t in the mood to write a tragic story. So I made her a murderess… I might just be certifiable after all =]

Love always,

M*

FWF-Its clear to me…

A post for Free Write Friday, hosted by Kellie Elmore

Free Write Friday wtih Kellie!!

Here is your FWF prompt:

I didn’t understand it then, but I understand it now…

Dear Diary..
Its one year now, since I had that miscarriage, and I haven’t written to you since that fateful day.
I was sad, I was depressed, I was worse than ever. I thought my life would end as well.
To me, that little baby meant a future with Paul, an existence, a glimpse at being a family, something I have never had before.
Paul said he was happy, that day when I peed on a stick. He smiled with me, went to the doctor with my, was happy with me. But a week before the miscarriage, something happened, something horrible, that I didn’t want to tell even you about, because I wanted it to be untrue.
Paul left. In the middle of the night, with a bag of clothes, all our money, most of the food and not even a note for me.
I cried. I wept. I took to the bed for about 3 days. Then I remembered my baby. I had to get up for her (I was so sure it was a girl), I had to live for her.
So I got up, got a second job, and then my girl also left the world.
I was devastated. I thought the whole world hated me, God had turned his back on me.
First my long term boyfriend deserts me in the middle of the night with a baby and no money. Then that baby also deserts me. Like she knew, even before she came into this world, that I was not worthy of her.
I kept hoping, Paul will come back for me, he has to, he loves me. He said so a million times, every day since we met, he told me he loved me, and four years later, on the verge of getting married, he left me. I was sure he would come back. But no. He stayed away…

I couldn’t understand what the world was trying to tell me, with all of this horrible things happening in my life. Then Jake walked into the coffee shop one day. A wonderful looking man, sweet, kind, gorgeous, and we fell in love, on first glance. It was everything Paul and I never were. I was so used to being the good, serving housewife type, it took my awhile to see how amazing it is to be taken care of, instead of taking care.

And now I’m engaged, and pregnant with a baby boy, due in five months…

Life worked out for me, diary, life turned itself around, and now instead of wondering why everything went wrong, I thank God that it did…

*Everything in this post is fiction…*

Hope you like it =]

Love always,
Marlize

Imagine It Promtp 58 – Experimenting…

The Imagine It Prompts come from here…

I was in need of a prompt to get the words out, and I came across this page, and just knew, yup, this could work.

Create an experiment you would love to test but cannot.

Christy opens the front door slowly and step out, closing it softly behind her, sneaky-like. Not that she is sneaking out, oh no. It’s perfectly acceptable for a 20-something girl to leave a man’s house at four am. Perfectly normal.
 
She puts on her heels and gets geared for the walk home, the inevitable walk of shame…
 
This was fun though, she thinks by herself. She doubted Lucy’s sanity when she came up with the experiment, but it was fun.
 
The idea was, go out, pretend to get drunk with a guy, and estimate how long it will take for him to try and get into your pants, and because he is drunk, you get to make the calls, and how often does a girl get the chance to do what SHE wants in bed… It was a good experiment, and as she’s walking, thinking about it, she thinks they should do it again tonight… 
 
With a quick text to Sandy to check if her experiment was just as successful, they decide to give it another go. Its been so long without good sex… 
 

Not my best work, but still an experiment that’s worthy of a try.. Problem with me, I’m usually the drunk one, willing to give it all up…

Love always,

Marlize

Forever is very long…

Tara closes her eyes, takes a second for herself and remembers. Remember the sweet moments, the bad moments and everything in between.

Her love for him surprised her more than she thought possible. She was sure it was just a flirtation, just some fun until she had to go back home after her holiday.

But then she realised, with quite a big shock to her system, how much it all meant to her.

“Morning, love…”

She opens her eyes, looks into the icy blue depths of Alex’s eyes.

Alex…

Such a sweet boy, a British boy, all she thought she wanted…

Poor boy, not aware that the object of all his affections is lost in love with a man in another city, another country, another continent.

“Morning, you’re up early.”

“The sky was awake, so I was as well,” he jokes and gets into bed next to her, pulling her mostly naked body tight against his.

A gesture that makes her sad, makes her remember, makes her want to forget, about the few nights she had with HIM…

Why couldn’t Andrei have listened to her and stayed away? Why did he have to be so amazingly perfect, and get under her skin, and upset her whole planned out world.

She feels Alex’s hands roam her body, looking for a sign, an invitation. But she deepens her breaths and relax her body, pretending to be asleep is way easier the pretending her way through another orgasm…

~~~

With lunch behind them, and a few hours on the beach, working off pent-up energy, they sit on the veranda of her cabana, she wishing to be alone, he wishing to get closer.

Tara takes out her phone and without thinking about it, automatically refreshes the emails. With a ping from her phone, her faces lights up for a few seconds, before she sees it is only spam and not Andrei.

She knows she asked him not to contact her, to have a clean break, but did he have to choose this moment to listen to her? Every minute, hour with an empty inbox is torture… Is he not missing her?? Missing them?? Wishing for her to be back in Italy with him? Or was all that happened not as perfect and beautiful as her mind led her to believe?

Then, a hotel attendant comes walking along the beach, towards her, and Tara gets her hopes up, maybe he called Front Desk, maybe he sent her a letter? The attendant hands her a big, wrapped box, addressed to Miss Tara, Cabana 3o3, Berry Island Hotel. Her go-to get away when the world and all its emotions overwhelm her.

“What is it?” Alex asks, and Tara looks up, surprised and slightly annoyed to find him across from her. Didn’t he leave yet…?

“I dunno, how bout you go get us some cocktails and I find out.”

“Sure,” as he gets up, he aims a kiss at her mouth, but ends up with a mouth full of hair, as she turns her head away, not even aware that he tried to kiss her.

With Alex gone, she starts struggling with the wrapping on the box. She opens it and smile, sad, happy, overwhelmed.

The box is filled with letters, and various small bottles of her favourite alcohol and, as she dig through the packing peanuts, a book right at the bottom. His favourite John Green, filled with notes and highlighted quotes.  Taped to the top of the box is a letter with the number 1 on top of it.

She opens it, and read slowly, as if to savor every letter, every word.

Missy
How can I miss someone I’m not in love with, this much? 
It wasn’t suppose to be this way. 
It was suppose to be easy
A Holiday fling
But now you are gone
And I’m still here
And I miss you more than possible
This box is filed with letters, on letter for every day without you and a few extra for days still to come.
I’m not allowed to say this
I know
But I have to say it, or I’ll implode
 
I love you
ur eyes
ur body
ur hair
the way u don’t give a shit
that drunken giggle
the way u respond
all of u
 
Forever,
Andrei
 

With a shaky hand, Tara wipe the tears from her face as Alex comes back.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, cocktails in hand.

“You need to leave… I’m sorry… I’m done playing. I lost my heart five months ago and I need to save it. Even if I can’t get to him, and love him. I can’t be with anyone else at the moment.”

“It’s that Italian, isn’t it?” he asks, his face not as angry as she expected it to be.

“Yes…” she answers, all her pain,  her hopes, her love caught up in one, small word.

“He’s at the beach bar. Waiting for you…”