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Showing posts from October, 2015

Mourning Doves at Surise

The mourning doves dozed in the sun, basking in the orange glow of the morning, a picture of true contentment. Bart was staring at the ceiling, wearing only the blond wig. No one could see the steel wool coated paunch. And even if they did, he was with this amazing lady, so it didn’t matter. Holly, elfin head covered in baby fuzz, was snoring quietly on his chest. The tumor and subsequent surgery had been discussed while they summoned their courage. The chemo badge was worn with no shame. During the night, the wig was passed from head to head, bringing laughter and more loving. It had been a dream full of surprises.    But it almost didn’t happen.   But it did, and he would answer for it. His finger traced along the thin pale scar above her ear and eyes fluttered.   “Mmm….Hey, Baby.” blue veined hand glided over the gray paunch.    “Hey, back.”    Kissing deeply, they looked into each other’s eyes. A question began to form on her face.   “Do you believe in gh

Night Cap (Blogophilia 35.8)

The tenth floor apartment was not far from the park.   Limping, she leaned heavily on her cane as they entered the building. Inside the door was a modest unit fit for a single. A couch and coffee table sat on the opposite wall angled slight toward the corner where the TV was hung.   A door to the left was open, his made bed visible in the shadows. To the right was the galley kitchen.    “So, come on in.” Dropping the suitcase next to the couch. “It ain’t much, but it is home.  “Coffee? All I have is some decaf.”    “Ooh, that sounds good. I’m freezing.” “Did you want to change?” Red formed along the edge of his cheeks. “I can go back in…” “Oh, hush. I’m not modest.” She grabbed a quilt that was on the couch and wrapped it around her. The hands disappeared and with a whoosh, the wet top flew over her head and landed on Bart’s head. She laughed as his face grew redder and frightened. A pale pink bra appeared next. Looping it around his head with a wicked grin, th

The Flying Dutchman (Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers #35)

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Yellow freighter came aside the President Street dock just before dawn. A shore crew took the bow lanyard, securing it to dock and quickly followed that with the stern. Stevedores prepped the cranes to begin the offlload when the Chief realized something was amiss. No Captain or Crew, just stacks of cargo containers piled high over the gunnels and a small flat screened kiosk at the top of the gangway. Without a touch, the screen lit up and scrolled the following message: "I am De Vilengende Hollander, the latest in Cargo ships. Instead of a boat with no port, I am a boat with no crew. Swap my cargo so I may proceed." The galley cranes followed the command and killed the crew. Another port taken over. https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/

Catalog.

It was on the table, a catalog from a well known online retailer. Sitting on top of what must have been yesterdays mail, the bold title "Thanksgiving Edition" caught my eye. It is only the middle of October, everyone needed to reminding there was something between Halloween and Easter to spend money on. Schmaltz populated by the usual well-kept Stepford family. Two accommodations to modern sensibilities were made. There was an older woman, the Grandmother and a woman of color with slightly Asian features with an insufferably cute curly headed daughter, probably the live-in Nanny. All the women shown were slender without curves, well kept in the manner of the 1% There were a few men with facial hair scattered but they were cardboard characters to ladies. Scenes of thoughtful cups of coffee interspersed with shopping bags and confidences shared. It was an expensive shoot, designed  to think that if you bought these clothes, you too could be one of them. It is all a fantasy.

Night Echoes (Blogophilia 34.8)

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The sugar maple shrugged its shoulders against the night breeze, not caring at all. The midtown skyline splayed out behind it, projected light bouncing off the gathering clouds. Another couple sprawled on the grass, another small romance. It was like the others it had seen in the fifty years since it was planted. Couple either came together, or didn’t. To the tree life went on. Bart and Holly didn’t notice either. Their eyes locked on each other as the wooded edges of the park faded into the dimming light. As the temperature dropped, a sweater appeared out of a bag to fight the chill.   A piece of chivalry not unnoticed.   Empty Chinese food boxes piled next to her cane and across the cheap blanket kept in the trunk of the Lincoln for emergencies. An impromptu dinner on the ground qualified as a good emergency. Time paused. Nothing mattered except the moment they were in, foreign and scary to each of them in different ways.  Holly had been a preemie and spent her fir

Twinkling Night (Blogophilia 33.8)

After a brief spin, Bart set Holly gently on the floor and handed her the cane and the small bouquet of flowers he had picked up from the street side vendor. Her thin arms gathered him into a long hug, burying his face into her highlighted hair. Laughter echoed down the long room, but few noticed. “Oh, man! I wish I got that greeting every time I arrived somewhere.” She gave him a peck on the cheek.   “So we finally meet!” Straightening her top, she kept giggling. “Although I wish the circumstances were a little better. I can’t thank you enough for putting me up.”   “I know what having obnoxious relatives are like.” He said taking her larger suitcase. “I certainly would have more help when Amy died. Let’s get out of here before anyone thinks we’re crazy.” A woman with perfect hair and six inch heels veered into their path, engrossed in her cell phone. Holly leaned in to get out of the way and looked up into grey framed face. Lavender and salt permeated his senses. They