#ThrowbackThursday Fiction: Kindling the Fire

I knew he was gone when I awoke shivering. Silly me for thinking this time would be different, that a random man I brought home from the bar would have the decency to stay at least until sunrise.

The hardwood floor feels like ice on the bottoms of my feet. I need carpets, but with what money? I’m too cheap to turn the heat on before the first deep freeze. Bedroom slippers will have to do for another month. At least the alcohol leftover in my system keeps me warm from the waist up. What need do I have for a man?

But I remember the sweet heat we made, driven by the booze that filled us to our limbs, when it was just our skin and sweat that separated us, and his tongue explored every inch of me, lapped me up like a steaming mug of cocoa.

How we made it from the bar five miles down the base of the mountain in his rattling 1992 Toyota pick-up remains a mystery to me. The air conditioning blasted our faces—he had no heat either—but it didn’t matter because we both sweated through our clothes, and I sat on his lap naked, bouncing on every pothole, every bump in the road. But it wasn’t to make the ride more titillating.

He couldn’t see.

I remember now. I was helping him drive–and teasing him at the same time. He juggled whether to put his fingers on the steering wheel or lift me up by the rear and slip them between the cracks.

But it was dark. No. Foggy. And something was falling. And the wipers did nothing but make the dirty windshield dirtier.

Damn him. I wish we crashed. It would have been better for me to die than to have him fill me up and empty me out all in one night.

I glance at the clock on my bedside table. There’s more light coming through my window than is normal for quarter to six. A thought comes that maybe it’s the headlights from his truck. He hasn’t pulled out of the driveway yet. I rush to part the curtains and give him a full view of what he’s leaving behind, what he’ll surely miss when he’s back home with whatever woman who’s got him running from me.

There’s always another woman. It’s my fate–my curse–to share, or have nothing at all. But now I long for nothing, because I’ve never felt this abandoned since the night my father left my mother and me in darkness in the middle of a blizzard to pay the electric bill and never came back.

And now my glowing backyard tells me what was falling from the sky last night.

Snow. At least an inch or more.

I shiver again, deep within myself, bones knocking. This day feels too familiar, too much like my childhood. I spot a trail of boot prints stretching from the back of the house toward the woods. His truck is still here. Damn thing must have died. Fluids frozen. He left it here. Somewhere there’s a man, half-naked, hungover, marching down the side of the road to the nearest service station, maybe looking for a hitch. With my luck, it’ll be a girl prettier and tighter than me, with less baggage.

I feel more used seeing his truck–here to remind me of every poor decision I ever made in life, drunk or sober. I’ll call a tow to have it removed, make sure he’s the one who has to pay for it.

I’m a traditionalist when it comes to communication. No cellphone. I still keep a phonebook by the landline downstairs. I jog down two flights to get the feeling and the warmth back into my thighs and my feet. But a crackling halts me at the bottom step. I’m still naked, and despite what happened the night before, I’m not willing to let another stranger in.

I notice it’s warmer down here. The chill in my joints is gone. I cover my breasts and follow the heat through the foyer, to the living room, where the fireplace I haven’t touched in years is brought to life by dancing flames.

And he is standing over it, tending it with the poker.

“You’re still here?”

He looks up, smiles at me trying without success to hide the body parts he’s seen and touched and kissed and licked all through the night. And I remember the set of footprints I saw from my bedroom window, how it lead into the forest. But then there was a second trail, afar off, coming back.

He’d gone to get firewood.

He comes over, touches my hand still covering my breasts.

You start a fire burning…” I say, but I’m short of breath. I’m shaking once again, but it’s not from the cold. I still can’t believe he came back, and for me. What did I do to deserve this? Can any of it be real?

“Come by the fire,” he says, but he draws me into him, wraps his arms around me, cups my bottom, a middle finger slipping in between the cheeks, kisses me with his open mouth. Our tongues meet in the middle, our hot breath touching our lips, and every inch of me is set ablaze.


Original post written for the #LyricalFictionFriday challenge November 3, 2017.

Monday’s One-Minute Fiction: Week of June 4

Rise and shine! May I borrow a minute of your morning for a quick flash fiction challenge? How quickly does an idea spark and develop into a story when you only have a picture, a word, or a phrase…and one minute to write?

Monday’s One-Minute Fiction challenges you to write a complete micro-fiction piece in, you guessed it, one minute, no more, no less, based on the prompt provided! Of course, you can come back to edit for grammar & spelling, but the story itself must be written in a minute.

It’s June, it’s hot! People are already thinking about summer plans, summer bods not yet achieved. How do you plan to spend these sunny days? Baking under the sun? Lounging at the beach or by the pool? Cooking out because it’s too damn hot to be turning the oven on inside? Taking a day trip to the countryside? If you’re not sure yet, maybe this week’s #1MinFiction prompt will help you make a decision…

drop the top

Now it’s time for the rules. I don’t have many, because we all know rules are no fun, but here are the basic logistics for each challenge:

  • Write your story in one minute. (Use a stop watch to keep yourself honest. 😉 )
  • Post it to your blog and tag it #1MinFiction.
  • Link it back to this prompt post.

Let’s get writing, shall we? And…

Ready . . .

Set . . .

Write!

Monday’s One-Minute Fiction: Week of May 28

Rise and shine! May I borrow a minute of your morning for a quick flash fiction challenge? How quickly does an idea spark and develop into a story when you only have a picture, a word, or a phrase…and one minute to write?

Monday’s One-Minute Fiction challenges you to write a complete micro-fiction piece in, you guessed it, one minute, no more, no less, based on the prompt provided! Of course, you can come back to edit for grammar & spelling, but the story itself must be written in a minute.

Happy Memorial Day, the unofficial first day of summer! Like most Americans, you’re probably standing over a hot grill, flipping some hamburgers and hot dogs, sipping an ice cold beer. Of course, if you’re on the east coast, your cookout probably got washed out by subtropical storm Alberto. But for those of you who aren’t gonna let a little rain ruin your day, this photo prompt is for you!

Now it’s time for the rules. I don’t have many, because we all know rules are no fun, but here are the basic logistics for each challenge:

  • Write your story in one minute. (Use a stop watch to keep yourself honest. 😉 )
  • Post it to your blog and tag it #1MinFiction.
  • Link it back to this prompt post.

Let’s get writing, shall we? And…

Ready . . .

Set . . .

Write!

Monday’s One-Minute Fiction: Week of May 21

Hello! Is it still Monday? May I borrow a minute of your time for a quick flash fiction challenge? How quickly does an idea spark and develop into a story when you only have a picture, a word, or a phrase…and one minute to write?

Monday’s One-Minute Fiction challenges you to write a complete micro-fiction piece in, you guessed it, one minute, no more, no less, based on the prompt provided! Of course, you can come back to edit for grammar & spelling, but the story itself must be written in a minute.

Ever feel like the weekend totally escaped you? Yesterday morning, I woke up with a start. Thinking it was Monday, I rushed to get ready for work, only to pause in front of the bathroom mirror and say to myself, “Hmmm, this weekend was really short.” That’s because it was Sunday! Unfortunately, I don’t remember a thing that happened after. There went my weekend…

Well, at least we have Monday off next week. Maybe that’ll mean I can post your #1MinFiction prompt on time for once! For now, here is the prompt for this week…

wasted

Now it’s time for the rules. I don’t have many, because we all know rules are no fun, but here are the basic logistics for each challenge:

  • Write your story in one minute. (Use a stop watch to keep yourself honest. 😉 )
  • Post it to your blog and tag it #1MinFiction.
  • Link it back to this prompt post.

Let’s get writing, shall we? And…

Ready . . .

Set . . .

Write!

Monday’s One-Minute Fiction: Week of May 14

Rise and shine! May I borrow a minute of your morning for a quick flash fiction challenge? How quickly does an idea spark and develop into a story when you only have a picture, a word, or a phrase…and one minute to write?

Monday’s One-Minute Fiction challenges you to write a complete micro-fiction piece in, you guessed it, one minute, no more, no less, based on the prompt provided! Of course, you can come back to edit for grammar & spelling, but the story itself must be written in a minute.

After an extremely long winter (thanks a lot, Mr. Groundhog) we seem to have skipped spring altogether and nosedived right into summer. Yesterday it was 90 degrees (Fahrenheit) in my city, and it’s only forecast to get hotter today. I hate to see how temperatures in July and August will look!

Of course, today’s prompt could be referring to the weather or someone’s boiling temper

be cool

Now it’s time for the rules. I don’t have many, because we all know rules are no fun, but here are the basic logistics for each challenge:

  • Write your story in one minute. (Use a stop watch to keep yourself honest. 😉 )
  • Post it to your blog and tag it #1MinFiction.
  • Link it back to this prompt post.

Let’s get writing, shall we? And…

Ready . . .

Set . . .

Write!

Monday’s One-Minute Fiction: Week of May 7

Rise and shine! May I borrow a minute of your morning for a quick flash fiction challenge? How quickly does an idea spark and develop into a story when you only have a picture, a word, or a phrase…and one minute to write?

Monday’s One-Minute Fiction challenges you to write a complete micro-fiction piece in, you guessed it, one minute, no more, no less, based on the prompt provided! Of course, you can come back to edit for grammar & spelling, but the story itself must be written in a minute.

Getting acquainted with a new job, new digs, and a new city has made it extremely difficult to keep up with a regular blogging schedule, so please forgive me for missing #1MinFiction last week! If we had a prompt, it would have been something zombie related (since last Monday was the final day for the April A to Z Challenge). You could say today’s photo prompt is zombie-esque. I mean, the ripped shirt, the flash of nipple, the dying flowers…

Or maybe it’s just a stretch. You decide!

And if you want to read my “zombie apocalypse” inspired A to Z serial story, read it here, starting with A is for Accessory to Murder!

Now it’s time for the rules. I don’t have many, because we all know rules are no fun, but here are the basic logistics for each challenge:

  • Write your story in one minute. (Use a stop watch to keep yourself honest. 😉 )
  • Post it to your blog and tag it #1MinFiction.
  • Link it back to this prompt post.

Let’s get writing, shall we? And…

Ready . . .

Set . . .

Write!

#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!