#ThrowbackThursday Fiction: To Rewind Time

I remember that he’s married now, so I ask about his wife.

“Pregnant,” he says.

I wait for details, but he only adds, “Very pregnant.”

Out of decency, I think to congratulate him, recite some drivel about how happy I am for him, how I wish him nothing but the best—all lies.

“How’ve you been?” he asks. Such a generic question, but there’s a hint of genuine concern in his voice, as if he’s picked up on my misery. I make no effort to hide it, and he had always been empathetic toward my feelings, even when he was the cause of my grief.

I look up into his eyes, and their weariness makes me feel safe. Reason would convince me that his visible tiredness is because of a demanding wife who, big with child, has driven him to take extra shifts—ringing up chips and smokes for night owls and runaways like me would be less strenuous than whatever hormonal crisis is unfolding at home—but I hold on to hope that seeing me again for the first time in five years has brought him to hate his own life, as I do mine.

“I’m being stalked by my boyfriend,” I tell him.

He laughs at what he thinks is an obvious joke, and a customer I don’t hear approach from behind taps my shoulder. His touch sends a surge down my arm as if I’ve just been electrocuted, and I feel I could literally jumped out of my own skin. I drop my bag of nabs along with the liter bottle of water onto the floor and curse under my breath for allowing myself to get distracted.

“Excuse me, ma’am, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says. He bends down to help me, but I shoo him away and quickly gather my things—I’ve stayed too long. What good will it do me to explain to an ex—one who’s happily married—that I’ve continued making bad choices, even after he was out of my life? I’d only be giving Craig more time to find me and force me back into his bed. I’ve wasted enough time; I must leave.

But I make the mistake of turning back before I exit the door, and he stares at me as he takes cash from the other customer.

I am still frozen by the door when the man brushes past, giving me a faint smile as he exists, and we are again left alone in this silent gas station convenience store save for the hum of the coolers on the back wall to remind us that we are still being watched.

“Why don’t you call the police?” he asks.

I’ve tried. Even as they promote campaigns to end domestic violence, to look for the signs, to pay closer attention to the most subtle ones, they don’t believe me. The absence of physical scars doesn’t help, and the fact that they know Craig further discredits my case.

“He is the police,” I say.

“Damn.” He drums his fingertips against the counter. I notice the nails are clipped too close to his skin, and I wonder if he still makes a habit of chewing them. He turns his head toward the short-circuit television, which displays the security camera footage in the store, and I step back, just out of shot, as another customer walks in, drawing the air conditioning outside with a draft. The bell above the door jingles, and I glance down at the time on my wrist watch. Fifteen minutes and counting.

“Hey.” He comes from behind the counter, and in two strides he is inches from me. I can feel his warm, steady breath blow just above my forehead. I forget how tall he is. He towers over me. I remember how he frightened me at times, even more when we argued. Now his eyes show a fierce anger, the deep amber in his irises pops out as in those of a predator, and all I want to do is fall into his arms like a damsel.

“I get off at eleven. Will you wait?” he asks.

I know I shouldn’t, and it’s selfish of me to keep him from his growing family, to worry him with my own feeble problems, especially when I’ve done this to myself. My eyes roll closed, and I imagine how different my life would be if five years ago I had only said those four simple words he was desperate to hear come back to him as he cradled the velvet ring box behind his back.

Original posted on May 31, 2017.

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#AtoZChallenge A Drabble for a Tag: Conclusion – X, Y, and Z

X Marks the Spot

Mel

“I think, therefore I am.” Five little words to explain human existence. It’s become my mantra as I meander down the empty road.

I am still flesh, blood, bone; still mind coherent; still…human.

Carol didn’t give me a chance to explain. But she still. I saw a man in the car with her before it sped off, which can only mean Mr. one-night-stand with the Victorian era house is real.

See, I remember. Humanity still exists in me.

When I get there, I’m not alone. Others like me—humans still—surround the house, all interested in the treasure hidden inside.


YOLO

They’re chained to the wall—mere inches from each other—Grace and the woman I thought I saw him murder…

Except, they’re different. Pallid, rotten skin. Moaning incoherently…

“I thought I could use Grace to save the ones that don’t turn back in the day…” he says.

Is that what Mel has become? I wonder.

He points to the woman. “What you saw me stab her with was a serum.”

At the restaurant, she was beautiful—flushed cheeks, hair the color of sand, deep brown eyes—I was envious of her. “So it works!”

He shakes his head. “Only temporarily.”


Zombie Apocalypse

Mel for only half a day? Can our friendship withstand it?

No time to wonder. There’s a clawing and ripping at wood. The drain of color in his face and eyes tells me what we both fear, and when the basement door is ripped open and flung to the bottom of the staircase, he slams the door to our tiny room and locks it.

But are we really safe? Confined in this tight space with two hungry zombies while an army beats tirelessly on the other side.

Hours from morning, and even then, only two of them will become human…

—Nortina


The A to Z Challenge is over, and today is actually reflection day, but I still have to finish my 26 drabbles (100-word stories) using some of my favorite unused or underused tags.

Today’s conclusion was brought to you by the tags, “X marks the spot,” “Yolo,” and the tag that inspired the whole story, “zombie apocalypse.”

I hope you enjoyed! I left the ending open ended intentionally. Do they survive? do they day? Interpret it how you will.

#AtoZChallenge A Drabble for a Tag: Werewolf

“I was a doctor before Grace,” he says.

Grace, who is real. An elderly woman who came to his office on day with a dire problem.

“I thought it was an advanced form of dementia. Then she invited me down here—” We stand in front of the obscure door at the back of the basement, where he finally acknowledges the knocking that has haunted me since I was last here.

“I watched her transform.”

“Into what?”

“They’re like werewolves,” he says, “except instead of a full moon, it’s every night. And they’re still—”

“Human?”

He nods. “At least, a version…”

—Nortina


The A to Z Challenge is back, and this year, I’m giving you 26 drabbles (100-word stories) using some of my favorite unused or underused tags.

OK, so I fell behind, but I won’t leave you hanging! Thursday’s tag was “werewolf.”

Stay tuned for the conclusion, “X,” “Y, and “Z” tomorrow!

#AtoZChallenge A Drabble for a Tag: Vulture

Mel

The high doesn’t last.

Yes, in that way it is like sex. The pleasure shoots you to the moon—until you orgasm, come crashing down, back to earth, where you roll over and realize the man lying in your bed is a rotting corpse.

A zombie.

Or vulture, as they prefer. It sounds less “Night of the Living Dead,” less “Give me your brains.” Although, we still want brain…

After he’s had his fill, he leaves with half my spleen and small intestines dangling from his mouth.

All I can think about is what to eat next…

or who…

“Carol.”

—Nortina


The A to Z Challenge is back, and this year, I’m giving you 26 drabbles (100-word stories) using some of my favorite unused or underused tags.

Today’s tag was “vulture.”

Stay tuned for “W” tomorrow!

#AtoZChallenge A Drabble for a Tag: U.S. Army

He’s not hysterical like me, ready to call the police, the national guard, the army…

My mind races a mile a minute with scenarios as I wrap the towel around my torso, hands shaking. Are there more out there like Mel? Is this an epidemic? Who else knows?

His face remains expressionless, a mild contentment, as if he’s unsurprised, as if he already knows what’s coming.

Finally I ask him who he is. I ask him about Grace, the house, the dead woman in his trunk. His answer is even more terrifying.

“She’s not dead,” he says. “Well, not completely.”

—Nortina


The A to Z Challenge is back, and this year, I’m giving you 26 drabbles (100-word stories) using some of my favorite unused or underused tags.

Tuesday’s tag was “u.s. army.”

Stay tuned for “V” later tonight!

#AtoZChallenge A Drabble for a Tag: Til Death Do Us Part

If you’ve been following this series since the beginning, then you know I opened it with a scene that left you (and even me) with a lot of questions. Since then, the story has slowly started to come together as I’ve picked up the pieces of the puzzle that led to that infamous shower scene (B through S). Now we’re back at the beginning, continuing where “A is for Accessory to Murder” left off…

“Carol.”

I don’t respond. Am I safer with him on the other side of this shower curtain?

Then I see Mel, a shadow of her former self, alive but not, inviting me to taste her…

This is far less gruesome.

Suddenly the curtain is ripped back, the rails screeching like nails against metal in agony. I slip and reach for anything to break my fall. He snatches up my arms, puts them at my sides, looks me over, spins me around.

“What the hell—”

“I’m making sure you haven’t been bitten or scratched.”

“Why?”

But I already know the answer.

Nortina


The A to Z Challenge is back, and this year, I’m giving you 26 drabbles (100-word stories) using some of my favorite unused or underused tags.

Today’s tag was a bit of a stretch: “til death do us part.”

Stay tuned for “U” tomorrow!

#AtoZChallenge A Drabble for a Tag: Serial Killer

“Her eyes were dead.”

That’s what I say when I get into the car, when I run back to the serial killer.

Mel was lying on the floor, in a pool of blood, and the man—her date?—was on top of her, eating her.

“He was fucking eating her!!”

I couldn’t hold still to dial 9-1-1.

When she moved. When she raised her hand, called my name. When she pushed him aside, stood with her guts spilling out, and said, “Come and try.”

I panicked. I ran. Back into the arms of the serial killer.

Just like in my dream.

—Nortina


The A to Z Challenge is back, and this year, I’m giving you 26 drabbles (100-word stories) using some of my favorite unused or underused tags.

Today’s tag is “serial killer.”

Stay tuned for “T” on Monday!

#AtoZChallenge A Drabble for a Tag: Rebirth

Mel

I’m hungry.

I lost my appetite at dinner, but it’s come back now. As he kisses me lower, that familiar song runs through my head…

I didn’t know that I was starving ’til I…

“How do I taste?”

He doesn’t speak.

I don’t feel like I’m in my skin. I look down; he’s biting my thigh. I think it tickles. Yes, I like it. I want to bite him too, make him feel like his skin is coming off, like mine, unveiling a new layer, a rebirth.

Who knew this would be better than sex?

I have to tell Carol.

—Nortina


The A to Z Challenge is back, and this year, I’m giving you 26 drabbles (100-word stories) using some of my favorite unused or underused tags.

Today’s tag is “rebirth.”

Stay tuned for “S” tomorrow!

#AtoZChallenge A Drabble for a Tag: Question

He agrees to take me home.

He just confessed to murdering multiple women….

And he agrees to take me home.

What is it about me that has spared my life? What am I to him but a drunken one-night stand? A mistake, given my history. And yet, he seems suspiciously protective of me.

I give him Mel’s address. Mainly because I don’t want him to know where I live, but also because I fear I may invite him in if he were at my doorstep.

Even with a body in the trunk.

Maybe Mel was right about my self-destructive habits.

—Nortina


The A to Z Challenge is back, and this year, I’m giving you 26 drabbles (100-word stories) using some of my favorite unused or underused tags.

Today’s tag is “question,” because I don’t have many “Q” tags. 😀

Stay tuned for “R” tomorrow!

#AtoZChallenge A Drabble for a Tag: Prisoner

“I’m not crazy,” he says.

Funny, I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours trying to convince myself that this was all just an alcohol-induced delusion, and the first thing out of his mouth is he’s not crazy.

One of us has to be sane. And since I’m not the one with a dead body in my trunk, I’ll take the bait.

“Am I your prisoner now?”

“I’m sorry.” He rubs his thumbs against the raw skin of my wrists underneath the handcuffs. “I had to be sure you weren’t like them.”

“Like the woman you killed?”

He nods. “There are more.”

—Nortina


The A to Z Challenge is back, and this year, I’m giving you 26 drabbles (100-word stories) using some of my favorite unused or underused tags.

Today’s tag is “prisoner.”

Stay tuned for “Q” tomorrow!