Creative Writing · Flash Walk Fiction · Uncategorized · writing

Fiction Friday Challenge: Dark Contract

night-85586
Image from Pexels/Tookapic

“Remember, you never knew me. I never woke you up. Promise me!” The gangly kid’s wild eyes shone behind Harry Potter glasses as I tried standing, holding on to my tombstone. My legs wobbled terribly like a baby colt’s.

But my body…

So. Much. Pain.

“Thanks.”

The young kid shakes his head sadly, then peers back up at me. His black hair is everywhere on his head as he takes his time watching me.

“This fulfills our contract.” He says, just as a fat rain drop hits my face. The nameless boy who called me from my grave shivers visibly.

He pulls a hood over his head, me as he jogs over to his car, snatching his neck around to see me once or twice. My vision is skewed: black and white. Like an old movie but with bad static or something.

He speeds off in his car, kicking dust everywhere. I know I will never see him again.

I am left with gifts by this stranger I hired while alive: a bookbag filled with Slim Jims, knives and my favorite-handcuffs.

I pull the bag over my shoulder. It takes at least a dozen tries. My stomach hurts so bad and my head is splitting…but I make the short trek home.

See. They never know when you’ll pull a stunt like this. When he says my name, he will fall in shock. You can never rid yourself of a good woman…

I knock once. Twice. Three times before a light pops on and blinds me. Now I see a shock of brilliant white.

The pain in my belly increases. Feels like razors on my entrails.

” K-K Karma? Oh God! Karma Lee?”

My lover stands with just his boxers on and a long arm rests on his broad shoulders. He seems to have lost even more  color now. The new girl finally peeks over him and she sees me too.

She shrieks. “A ZOMBIE!!!!!”

I slowly step inside my home…

As soon as lightning and thunder cracked the sky I made my decision. With just a single thought, the door slams. Perhaps this is a new power?

“Dominic,” I say as the two of them..traitors,  fall back, eyes wide in genuine fear. “Payback is a bad b#!ch.”

Copyright 2017 Erica Jean Smith

To join in the Friday Challenges fun, please visit Marquessa’s blog! Thanks for reading!

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Flash Walk Fiction · Uncategorized · writing

Fiction Friday Challenge: Kiss and Tell the Gorgon

mont-saint-michel-france-normandy-europe
Image of Normandy France taken from Pixabay

Synopsis: Prince Mex falls for the late Medusa’s sister. But her heart is as cold and steely as the armor she wears. Will the pretty faced prince finally melt the heart of a monster known to slay thousands in the blink of an eye?

“You can’t love me.”

“Why not?”

“Need I remind you, Pretty Prince. I am Xeria. Medusa’s sister. A gorgon. A warrior. It is not me you want. Why not Ledea? She is wholesome, untouched. A true beauty.” I say referring to my curvier, more luscious sister.

Prince Mex advanced closer, sheathing his sword by his side. His eyes were the color of the beautiful Aegean sea before twilight, his muscles bulged before me as he was topless and I was getting an eyeful. I remained stoic, however difficult that prove to be.

“Because you are the one who caught my eye. There is something about you Xeria I can’t name.” His thumb touches the bottom of my lip, I slap his hand away but he only smiles. Every man in the kingdom wishes to be the one to touch Xeria’s heart.”

“There is nothing special about me. I am a monster. They know that, so do you.”

The human male before me shakes his head once to the right, then the left. “Xeria. You are not like your sister.”

He was referring to Medusa. The one who was used, abused and became famous throughout the land for her cursed power of turning men to stone who looked upon her.

“I am. I have killed thousands. Maybe millions, Mex. I am a hunter, not some twit who wants marriage and children.”

Mex laughed at me, his eyes twinkled. The most handsome warrior to fight by King Olios’s side wants me? Absurd.

“Take off your helmet.”

“No.”

“Take. Off. Your. Helmet.” A slow, seductive command I immediately obeyed. Unfair!

I giggle inside. Most men have pursued me and I have given them my time(after they begged for mercy, of course). Mostly because they look at my eyes and my svelte yet busty figure, and think I am too pretty to kill or something, but once I remove my helmet…

I pulled it off and feel the rows of wet serpents sweep my shoulders, they hiss in sorrow and hate for me. Sometimes I hear them in my dreams. Sometimes they bite me. “See.”

Mex snakes out a hand and tries to pat the one lying down on its side, a quiet unmoving one.

“I killed that one. She’ll come back eventually.”

With wide eyes in wonder, Mex touched my snake hair. “Dios! How…”

“I don’t know.” I spoke. I don’t know how Medusa and I received our hair. Other women can use combs, hair brushes and place pretty ornaments on their fine hair. Mine was the definition of unruly and unkempt…alive.

He steps closer, it seems he is not breathing. Then he closes his eyes. “Xeria. When we are not fighting together,” he whispers. “When I do not see you. I miss you. “Every time I think of you, I always catch my breath.”

He pauses. Then add, “Tonight, I lose my breath. Gazing upon your beauty.”

I swallow in sadness and passion.”I guess that is my curse then.”

Mex grinned wickedly, looking like his father, the King. Who is part of another secret I must hide from Mex.

He ignores my hissing snakes but I mentally make them lie down as Mex’s beautiful bow shaped lips meet mine and I surrender, melting, sealing my lips upon his very soft ones. He is an expert at this. Just this one kiss is doing damage to all my beliefs and constitution.

He wraps his hands around my hips and brings me closer as his tongue finally meet mine.

I drop my helmet with a loud reverberating clang to the floor.

Okay. He won this battle.

But I will win the war.

Copyright© Erica Jean Smith

**Thank you for reading! Make sure you click the link within the story to be taken to Marquessa’s blog for more lyrical prompts on Fridays!

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African American · Creative Writing · Flash Walk Fiction · writing

Black Wings, The Conclusion

*Black Wings continues with a slightly longer conclusion. Thanks for reading!

quote from black wings
Image designed by Ericajean using Canva

Everything about her is so tiny, so fragile. Her lips are the perfect bow shape-tiny. Her fingers, long and slender-tiny nails. Her face, a small heart shape- tiny eyes the shape of almonds, with milk chocolate irises. Her hair floats behind her like a big cloud, her skin is the color of night without stars, but her small teeth are perfectly white, glitters in her face. And she does not know she has my heart in a vise…

Ricky was about to follow Cara out into the storm when several hands grabbed at him. “You’re going to be crowned the king! Come on!” Several girls pulled on his arm. They were cute girls. Trim girls. Wore the same makeup girls. Plastic girls. Not really mean, just cookie cutter in order to make it.

“I have to find Cara.”

“Who?” asked one them in a huff. “Stop playing around. If Trish sees you out here trying to find another girl, she will dethrone you so quick.” The girl with dark hair snapped her fingers for emphasis.

Ricky pulled away from her. “She and I aren’t dating. We just…I don’t know.” He shook himself. “I gotta go.”

“During prom?” The girls screeched. “This is important, Ricky! Stop playing around!” The blonde one wearing  a beautiful sequined dress.

Something tugged at his heart. It was beginning to ache. Cara was out there, probably trying to do something stupid. Here he was arguing about being “king”.

In a split second decision, he decided to go look for Cara. She couldn’t have gone far.

Sprinting across to the EXIT, with several swear words following behind him, he burst through the double doors, still smelling the Sweet Pea lotion Cara wears but the wind and the rain were brutal. The scent was quickly sliced.

Rain came down like small swords. Sluicing and wetting up everything. It sounded like rocks being thrown outside.

He did not care.

Where did she go in this night?

A bright yellow dress shouldn’t be hard to miss.

He crossed the intersection where cars were backed up, horns honked in frustration and the freaking streetlight that never gets fixed, remained on red for a while.

Then he saw the hair, like wings flapping behind her. The yellow dress clinging to her tiny body as her small feet kicked up mud and puddle water.

Without thinking, Ricky chased her. He’ll be damned if…if he see this. Witness this.

Within a few steps he caught up to her. Instead of touching her he raced ahead of her and stopped, turned to face her,causing her to bump into his chest.

“What are you doing?”

“You tell me. What are you thinking running out into the dark like this?”

“I can if I want.” Her lips were wet with kisses from the rain and her small eyes, cat-like eyes he now realized, looked at him with iron anger. “What? Afraid I’ll catch a cold?”

“That and the fact that this part of town is dangerous.”

“So?”

“So?” Ricky wanted to hug her so bad. Let her know it was alright to be different and that some people were just anus holes. She was the darkest girl in the school but the prettiest. The girls and guys knew that too and would admit it if they weren’t chicken.

“I can’t just let this happen.”

Cara crossed her arms over her, defiant. “I don’t get it. You are the most popular boy in the school about to be crowned. For your beauty. Your talent. They are probably waiting for you right now. You are out here, chasing me. You sure you aren’t on any drugs?”

Ricky laughed. “I am not on drugs and to hell with prom crowning. They can have it.”

“I gotta go,” Cara said resolved, turning from him.

But Ricky couldn’t let her leave. Not like this. Not right now.

“Cara listen to me! I think you are very beautiful! I- I think you are the sweetest girl I’ve ever known and smart too.”

Cara kept walking away but this time he caught up to her, gently pulled her elbow to turn her around and face him. “You don’t have to do what you are trying to do.”

“What is it I am trying to do?”

They both stood there, rain beating their faces and bodies. The wind whipped harder but Ricky put less distance between them, placed his hands on her shoulders. Her scent sweet and bright, like her dress, like her eyes.

“I watched my mom do it. Said she was going to the bathroom and will be right out. Dad and I waited half an hour. Silence, Cara. Silence! Mom never came out. All I remember…” Ricky was glad for the rain to mask his tears. “All I remember was her dark hair disappearing in the bathroom door, a piece of it caught in the doorjamb, but she didn’t know or care. Then the sound of something falling. Life was too much for her. So instead of thinking of me and dad, she thought about herself. Focused inward so much, we became, maybe caricatures to her. Expendables. Our hearts still beating, bleeding for her and we know she’ll never come back.”

Cara was silent. Listening to Ricky was a mistake.

“My essay, Black Wings? From earlier this week was about her, Cara. When I was ten that was all I

bird flying in the sky
Image of bird flying found on Unsplash.com

remember. Her dark hair, flapping behind her like black wings and disappearing behind a freaking bathroom door. Only to lose her moments later. She flew away from me and dad. I wish I could tell her she was good enough. Better than enough. I wish I could bring her back.” He swiped at his eyes. “She basically killed our soul, Cara. That is what suicide does to those who love you.”

The cars zoomed past them. All it would take is one toe out in the street. A quick dart out and then finally she can be away from this dark world. Maybe in her next life she’ll be light and pretty.

His eyes got to her though. Those kind green eyes held a special sadness. A permanent sadness his mother put there.

“Sorry about that, Ricky.”

Suddenly the rain slowed and Ricky put even less distance between them, his hands slid slowly down Cara’s arm, his forehead touched hers. “I will not let the next person I care about, do the same thing. I don’t like people leaving me, Cara.”

Cara looked up into Ricky’s face. This was wrong. Very wrong.

“You have another life Ricky. Go back to that school!”

“No!” He hissed to her lips. “I am not leaving you out here. We go together to the school or we stay together here. I will not lose anyone else!”

“Please. Let me do this. I know I will be free if I can do this. The one thing I can do right.”

“No.” He tipped her chin up so her eyes could meet his. “I want to tell you something, I’ve been trying to say all year. I couldn’t write it in the card but-”

“Card?”

“Yes,” he smiled and finally ran his hand through her thick, kinky hair. “The cards you’ve been given.”

You put them cards in my locker?” Her eyes narrowed at him.

“I slip them in there from time to time.”

“You write nothing on them though,” she chuckled. A small smile, a small feat achieved. Her smile literally broke through the storm. He could watch her smile and hear her laugh all day long.

“I am about to, just listen. Please.”

Cara rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t step away from Ricky’s strong touch. Their bodies were now pressed together as if they were two halves of a heart. As if they were lovers.

“Cara, you sit near me every day in English class and never look my way. I don’t think you notice me. You carry yourself around as if your skin is a heavy burden or bricks to be laid down and you sag in your seat, absorbing class material like a computer. Your eyes are never trained on me, the teacher or class and I find myself wondering: Who is this girl that no one matters to her? She walks alone to class and from class. Her head is down sometimes and most days it is up, not in snotty manner but as if she is a Queen and aspires to be so. I could only hope to be the lucky guy on her arm.

I know you feel like an ugly duckling and that the world does not look at you or admire you. But I will let you in on a small secret. When you are not looking, it is your scent that makes a few of us guys sniff the room. It is your smile that causes a small gossip to erupt amongst the jocks, the secret longings of their hearts exposed in closed locker rooms. The girls sometimes look your way and the next day they upgrade their hair and makeup. One girl in particular tried to befriend you the other day in the cafeteria, she heard that you like Star Wars. Instead you nodded politely and went back to eating, regal as can be because who would really want to talk to you?

Everyone, Cara. Everyone wants to talk to you including me. But I want more. I want more than your talk, I want your lips on mine. I want more than for you just to see me, I want you to gaze at me. I want more than just a handshake from you,” he trailed his hand down her arm to her hand. “I want a hug.”

Cara was speechless.

Before she could say anything, Ricky put his lips on hers, startling her. He kissed her with the feather light touch of a painter’s brush, or the kiss of sun after a stormy, rainy day. A hint of heat and softness.

Ricky knew this wasn’t enough to stop someone from disappearing. What if one day Cara was no longer enough for him? Will she pick up where they left off? Somehow, he knew she’d be in his life forever. She was a treasure to him. Confessing his heart was all he could do. To save her.

For now.

**Author note: I truly hope you enjoyed this story. It dropped in my mind one day as I was waking up. I thought, “Hmmm, what if a girl who felt un-pretty met a very beautiful boy who sent her blank greeting cards?”

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Creative Writing · Flash Walk Fiction · writing

Black Wings, A Really Short Story

quote text about a story
Image designed by Ericajean using Canva

***This story involves a sensitive issue that some people may face and does not in any way make light of the situation. The goal is to enjoy the story and think on it. Ultimately I hope you enjoy it, Reader!

_

Once again her tears were real. She dropped her black purse her mom gave her and slammed herself against the locker before sliding down to the cool floor. Not caring if her legs were splayed open beneath her sun yellow dress and not caring that her new upswept hairdo was now smashed against the locker. Who cares.

The music pumped from the gym out to the hallway. The person handling the tickets behind the foldable table was now folding it up and collecting her things. She did not see Cara.

Who ever sees Cara?

With her nails she drew long marks along obsidian skin. There. White streaks. Now if only she could see the white meat. If only she had something to flay that dark meat open.

Shaking her head and covering her face, she bawled. Right there on the floor.

Music drifted to her. Something by…? Who knows. It sounded like racket now.

But she knew everyone wore a smile and had a date. She could only dream of a date. That was why she read sappy teen novels. The closest she’s ever been to a guy was between the pages and not the sheets.

“To hell with everyone!” She yelled, then picked up her purse. She will leave.

That’s it.

She will leave. Why stay somewhere she can’t even leave a mark?

“Wait,” she heard someone say as she walked along the wall, hung on the wall for support as she slowly, cryptically made her way to the EXIT. Why was she moving so slothful? Didn’t freedom await her?

“Wait, Cara.”

She kept moving. Whoever it was should leave her alone. She was finally leaving this forsaken place.

School was not for dark girls.

Why’d her mother move anyway? Because of a divorce? Who cares?

The stranger touched her elbow. “You left this.”

Cara slowly let her eyes take in her long, teal jacket. Made for Spring weather or impending rain.

She heard the quick pellets of rain hitting the rooftop.

“Don’t need it,” her eyes followed the tanned arm and she looked into kind green eyes. “I’m leaving.”

His lips smiled. “Of course but you need this. Don’t you?”

For what she was about to do, it did not matter. “No.” She bit her lower lip hard until she tasted blood. She sucked on it and kept moving.

Her hands touched the rusted handle of the door. The handle the janitor kept polishing anyway, so now some parts not flecked off shone brilliantly under the fluorescent lights while the reddish brown part created an ugly contrast.

“I just thought you might not want to catch a cold.”

Cara thought about her purse. No need for this either. Her ID, keys all of that. She whirled around and fled to her locker, quickly twisted the dial and popped it open. A few blank greeting cards flew out and landed by the guy’s feet.

“You have plenty of greeting cards. Planning on writing them all out later?” She stashed her purse into the locker and looked at the stranger closer. He was in her English class. He opened a card and smiled again. A small dimple formed in his right cheek. A deep, dimple.

“No. I found those. You can have ‘em.”

The boy blinked as she took her jacket from him. “Thanks.”

“I just have to know, Cara. Why aren’t you dancing?”

Was he for real?

 “The glitter, the lights and the girls…not for me.”

“Yeah,” he stepped closer to her but she took two steps back. “I saw them. So what?”

“That’s my point. This is my senior year!” Her eyes watered. “I can’t even get a partner to dance with me because my skin swallows light. It isn’t fair!”

Understanding seemed to dawn on him. “Patty and Rochelle have no dance partner. They look nice. But not as nice as-”

Cara held up her hand. Ricky smelled the Sweet Pea lotion on her and it was the same scent that wafted into the gym doors earlier. The same bright fragrance from English class in the morning. It reminded him of sweet flowers facing the sun and days of learning to ride his bike. His mother…

 “I hate this school anyway. It’s prejudice leaks through the walls. Smell it?”

She huffed and marched away from Ricky and flew open the doors letting in a powerful gust of wind and rain.

Her hair, no longer pinned, cascaded down and flapped about her like black wings.

There is no way this guy was going to be bring her back.

Back from the will to die.

Note from author: I hope you enjoyed this short piece. Stay tuned for the next part sometime this week! If you like the stories, please share and subscribe to my blog! (You may have to scroll down to subscribe)

Copyright 2017 Erica Jean Smith

Creative Writing · Flash Walk Fiction · relationships · Romance · writing

Betrayal Has a Name-Conclusion

A Woman's Face
Photography of woman’s face by John Rocha

Betrayal Has a Name: Conclusion

My problem is that I always feel something is there, even when I’ve lost it. My leg. My beautiful leg Jonathan always groped and tickled, just right under the knee- is now gone. I am told to be grateful I still have my piano fingers. But I have no leg and I am in awful pain.

Alista pushed herself up in the bed, just as Patsy, Jonathan and Coby walked into her room. In that order. Her mom, Patricia Michaels stood up, erect, dignified. Nodded at each friend briefly. “Please. Make it short. She needs her rest.” Adjusting her heavy pewter coat with white fur lining the hood, Alista’s mom walked out the room. Her heels clicking hard. The sound of importance and success. Alista only hoped to be like her someday. Unaffected by life, taking charge as problems come.

“Hey baby,” Jonathan leaned down. Kissed her lips gently. She couldn’t feel it. Her lips were too dry and cracked. Noticing her discomfort, he poured her some water from the pitcher on the side table and added the short, tiny white straw. “Drink.”

She sipped a little as he stroked her hair, telling her he missed her and asking about her health and did she dream of pianos.

Meanwhile she caught the faint surprise on Patsy’s childlike face. That brown, beautiful face of a cherub. But her eyes held a shine. Tears. “Oh, Alista!” She came over and leaned down on Alista. Patsy’s soft body smelled just like Jonathan’s arm. Baby powder and Dove soap. “Hi! Are you okay? I am so, so sorry!”

“I miss my leg.” Alista said. “I would borrow yours, but you have incredibly short, turtle ones. I’ll manage.”

“Still find time to crack jokes, huh?” Jonathan stepped back from Alista as Coby narrowed his eyes at everyone. Alista waved her hand. She knew Jonathan hated how she picked on Patsy. Ever since high school Patsy was just easy to like and tease at the same time. She couldn’t help it.

“I have to. I’ve been in an accident on my way to perform.” She took Coby’s offered hand. He kissed the back of hers.

“You are a perfectionist, Sweetheart.” Coby’s handsome pierced face and blue eyes shone with affection for her. Alista loved her childhood friend. Suddenly she wish they could start that band he’s been meaning to put together.

But Alista wanted to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Jonathan’s eyes usually soft for her, were now hard. With concern or…something else?

Patsy appeared skittish as usual. Such a shy kitten. But Alista could see clearly that Jonathan was protective of their little friend.

“When I said break a leg,” Coby began. “I was only joking.”

“You know I always took your advice.”

“How does your body feel? I mean. Are you going to be alright?” Patsy asked her.

“What’s crazy is I think I feel my leg.”

“What?” Patsy asked touching the railing. “What do you mean?”

“Phantom limb effect I believe. Remember in psychology class? When the teacher talked about losing a limb but still having the feeling that it’s there?”

“Oh, yeah.” Patsy and Jonathan said at the same time.

“Anyway,” Alista ran her hand down the severed limb part. Grateful the blanket was covering her. “It may be gone, but I still feel it.” She paused and sat her cup down. “We lose something and still feel it is there. Now it hurts more now that it is gone, than if I had it. Doctors said it had to be done.”

“Wow,” Patsy bit her bottom lip. “It had to be done to rescue you from worse hurt you know.”

“Yeah. You wouldn’t be with us, otherwise.” Jonathan shifted, placed his hands in his pockets. “It must be done.”

“I keep thinking,” Alista sat up even more. Slightly grimacing as everyone leaned in closer to hear what she had to say. “I keep thinking, maybe if they could have left it on. I can walk on crutches you know?”

“You would still suffer,” Jonathan offered. “Why have something that is crippling you. Why would anyone want that? Plus, you are here. You needed to be cut out from that car.”

“You sound insensitive. Why would anyone want their leg cut?” Coby interjected.

“No one wants it,” Patsy glanced at Jonathan’s face. “But if something is not working or if it can rescue you from a world of debilitation and pain. Why keep it?”

Alista shook her head. Coby suddenly took her hand again while Jonathan’s remained in his front pockets, but his eyes still loved her. In whatever form it was conveying. It had to be love.

Yes, it was still there.

*************

Copyright 2017 Erica Jean Smith

*If you have not already, please read the interesting first part of this story. Then check out more amazing quick tales via this blog! Your likes, comments and shares are all appreciated!

Flash Walk Fiction · New Adult · relationships · writing

Betrayal Has a Name(a really short story)

A Woman's Face
Photography of woman’s face by John Rocha

 

Patsy swung the door open hard. Not caring that it banged against the chalky, white cheap wall of her studio apartment. Not caring that some friends and family were eyeing her with strict concern. She took herself out of there and fast needing to be the first to reach her friend Alista.

“Wait,” a firm touch and clasp of his warm hand, grasped her elbow as she tried to take that last step. Jonathan’s eyes roved over her body. A tingle broke through her, beginning from her arm where he touched her and pooled in her belly. Where warm, illicit feelings stirred.

She removed his hand quickly with a pop of her hand. “What do you mean wait?” She spat. “Let me go to her. She’s my friend.” Every word was enunciated, hard. Like each nail driven into wood. Meant to close the deal and seal the truth.

But they were both liars and Patsy knew this bone deep.

Now it was Jonathan’s turn to frown. He looked at the short, cute girl wearing the gray pullover hoodie and whose sweatpants never looked better on another girl. Her body was perfect and her small face even more perfect. Her lips always begged for his kisses. How is it that I ignored this girl in high school? Not only is she incredibly hot, but so sincere. “I think we passed that line two days ago- don’t you think?”

Patsy bit her bottom lip. Even had the decency to look nervous and guilty. She looked up at Jonathan. His eyes, were trained on her lips. Now she remembered. Never did he look into her eyes when they would all hang out together. He always looked at her lips. And when she spoke, he always backed her opinions. Her, Alista, Jonathan, and Coby were the best of friends since high school.

Jonathan dated Alista, the pretty pianist with the big, chocolate eyes. He dated Alista all four years of high school.

High school was over now.

Now, they were deciding on college, jobs, and ultimately if there really was a pot of gold at the end of relationships. They both knew they shouldn’t hurt Alista anymore. Alista has been hurt enough. By her family, this sudden accident and now this…

“We have to see her. She is at the hospital. I’m done with…with this.” Patsy crossed her arms over her small breasts, watching as Jonathan licked his lips.

What have they done?

What have they done?

Jonathan wrapped his arms around her. Not caring who may see them. “I told you before,” he whispered. “And I’ll say it once more. You have always been the one for me. Maybe if we tell Alista the truth, it won’t be as hard for her to take later.”

Patsy shoved him hard and made it all the way to her car door and was about to pull it open when once again Jonathan’s arms wrapped about her. She forgot how fast he was, being a former track runner and running back for their high school football team.

Her phone buzzed.

His rang- had a stupid ringtone.

Both rang at the same time.

She pulled hers out of her pocket. Alista’s cousin’s face bloomed all over it, causing a knife to stake its way into her chest.

Jonathan showed her his screen. Alista’s mother was calling him.

It is moments like these where it is inappropriate to think of the late day showers with Jonathan’s muscular, powerfully built body pressing hers into the cool tiled wall, grunting, groaning, praying her name aloud.

Or in the morning, with her body spooned with his. Excited and tortured by his teasing lips.The cries of near pain and ecstasy as Patsy realize he was indeed a very, very experienced lover which caused her to nearly lose her voice. Probably one delicious reason Alista stayed with him.

The reason Patsy should have left him alone.

“I want you, Patsy. Let’s tell them the truth.”

Cold prickles marched down her neck like ants. “I don’t want to take this call.” She swallowed. “I don’t want to tell any truths.”

“It could be bad.” Jonathan agreed.

This time it was just his phone buzzing.

Alista’s mom again.

*************

Stay tuned for the conclusion on Friday/Saturday! For more short stories visit My Flash Walk Fiction Page!

Copyright 2017 Erica Jean Smith

 

Flash Walk Fiction

‘Seaweed Eyes’, A Brief Autumn Romance(Flash Walk Fiction)

 

**Below, you’ll find a very brief Autumn romance fit for readers of young adult fiction, love, and general literature. I hope you like this treat and feel free to comment and share. I will update the last part sometime this week**

seaweed

Seaweed Eyes

Part 1

Hoping against hope, I sit on grandma’s swing, under the shady tree, the large one I used to be afraid of as a child until one day I saw a beautiful, emerald caterpillar undulating on its branch. The tree couldn’t be all bad if beautiful creatures took up residence there.

I swing my feet out, my church shoes looking like horse hooves and kicked back and forth, my long legs were spindly and my shoes kept kicking up the dirt patch, but the sun was warm, friendly and not unbearably hot.

Hoping against hope, I pray he doesn’t show up. Every Sunday dinner since I was ten, he came by with his son. The one with the bowl hair cut, sneaky smile and dingy clothes.

I stop my swinging and finally make up my mind to tell Grandma Olsa.

“Grandma!” I yell into the house. I pull open the front door and hear it scream in protest as I dash upstairs to where grandma was knitting by the window. They look like small hats, for a baby.

“I don’t want Casey and his dad here. I hate them!”

Grandma slowly lowers her knitting needles and turns away from the window. After she sighs she then says, “Dearie. Never say you hate someone.”

“I don’t like them, Grandma,” I whine. Now I feel six instead of sixteen. “That boy is always looking at me, like he wants to eat me. He is kind of chunky.”

“You hadn’t seen him all summer, why worry now Elesa? We go to the same church and his family is in need sometimes. Giving him a free meal once in a while and some friendship is the least we can offer.” Grandma Olsa stands up in a beautiful, print dress of sunflowers and I admire her long, silver hair which is incredibly healthy and thick.

“Well. Do I have to talk to him?”

“I would like for you to be polite,” Grandma Olsa says just as a firm knock on the door downstairs confirms the worst.

They’re here.

With the house smelling of sweet yams, buttered biscuits and grandma’s briskets memories of the last Fall sweeps through me and I feel a kind of nostalgia come over me. Last year’s cinnamon raisin cookies, the large green Christmas tree with lots of presents under them.

The unopened presents mom and dad will never see.

I take the steps one at a time slowly, not excited about seeing the dark haired Casey and his thick shouldered giant of a father.

Grandma opens the door wide and opens her arms wider for Casey’s dad. “Come in fellas! You’re just in time!”

I turn on the dining hall’s lights as Casey’s dad enters.

I keep looking around the man for Casey. Grandma holds the slender yet toned fella next to Casey’s dad.

The boy has his hair in a small bun at the nape of his neck and his eyes are the color of seaweed, framed by curly lashes.

He is mighty fine.

“Elesa. Aren’t you going to hug Casey?”

I swallow hard.

This. Can’t. Be. Casey.

***Story inspired by a great prompt on Pinterest!***

Copyright 2016 by Erica Jean Smith