Romance Writers & Readers discussion
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Flashy Monday Discussions
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FLASH THIS by April 9th!
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Your current story is such a cute one, Mistress Ann!
Mod
Tee hee.
Annie wrote: "That's the meanest thing you've ever said to me, Princess Jane.Tee hee."
Hahaha! Sorry!
Here's mine, a little short one carrying on from last week's!Kill me now, she thought as she felt lips brush against hers.
She fought to keep herself still, keep pretending she was asleep, if the man who had broken into her bedroom in the middle of the night knew she was awake there was no telling what he would do.
She would rather he kill her than kiss her. Or more. What if he didn't stop at kissing? What if he took things further?
She'd been through that before and she had no desire to ever do it again.
She would rather be dead.
Without alerting the intruder her fingers curled around the handle of the knife she always kept under her pillow.
She would never be a victim again.
In one fluid movement she swung the knife out and plunged it into the man.
Here I am, back in the game, with somewhat of a horrible story...THE GARAGE. A LOVE STORY.
The garage door slams open and beside me Cory groans.
“Kill me now.”
I gulp and look over the piles and piles of junk in the garage. For seven years it’s been our garbage tip for things that we didn’t want in the house, but that were just too good to keep.
“Come on, babe. You know it’s time.”
With another groan, Cory stomps into the garage, every dragging step showing that he would prefer to be doing anything else except cleaning out the garage.
Truth be told, so would I. But my shiny new Lexus has been sitting out in the cold for weeks, and it’s started to turn to rain. Corey promised me that we would clean out a space for her when I bought her. And so, I’m holding him to his promise.
“What’s this?”
Cory holds a photo in his hand, dusty from its years in a cardboard box. But even through the dust, I can see what it is, and my stomach descends.
“Why do you still have this?”
Cory turns on me, hurt and anger in his eyes.
It’s a picture of me and my former partner, Brian. We are happy and laughing together in the photo, which is a far cry from what things were really like. Brian was a bully, an abuser. The bad times totally outweighed the good.
It took me years to break free from his hold over me, and years after that to break free from the mental anguish he had put me through. Cory was there for the back end of those years. He had cradled me through more than one episode where I thought death would be better than life. He had sat by my side when I lay in the fetal position in bed, saying and doing nothing for days. And he had helped me back from the brink, helped me see that I wasn’t the worthless nothing that Brian had asserted I was.
It was Cory who insisted that I throw the photo away. I told him I had done so.
“It’s no big deal, Cory,” I wheedled. “It’s just an old photo.”
“It’s a photo you told me you had thrown away. I thought you were done with this cr*p.”
“I am,” I say. “It’s just that… Brian was such a huge part of my life. I don’t like to have no memories of him at all.”
“Memories?” Cory spits the word at me. “You mean like when he split your lip when he threw his plate at you? Or when he broke your arm because you were trying to go out with your friends?”
“Cory, please.”
“Or when he almost beat you to death? J****, Katie, do you really want to keep things that remind you of him?”
I am silent.
“And what about me? Do you think I want to see photos of this d***head? Every time I see his face I want to kill him.”
“I know.”
He throws the photo back into the cardboard box. “Call me when that thing is gone. I need a few minutes.” He stalks out of the garage, and I stand silently, watching him go.
Then, making sure he doesn’t see, I pick up the photo and hide it, right at the back of the garage, behind a cupboard.
Cory doesn’t understand. He doesn’t make me feel the way Brian does. That’s why I’m still seeing Brian, once a week, at our secret place.
Brian warns me Cory would go mental if he knew anything about it. Even while we make love, he’s strangling me until I nod, purple in the face, that I’ll never tell Cory about us, about our secret meetings. I wear scarves until the bruises fade.
Brian loves me. Of that, I am absolutely sure.
Jane wrote: "Here's mine, a little short one carrying on from last week's!Stab that dude. I would. (Except if it's whoops, the new BF who thought it would be romantic to come through the window.... then awkward!)
Bree wrote: "Here I am, back in the game, with somewhat of a horrible story...THE GARAGE. A LOVE STORY.
The garage door slams open and beside me Cory groans.
“Kill me now.”
I gulp and look over the piles a..."
Oh, totally awesome! I love it!!
Bree wrote: "Jane wrote: "Here's mine, a little short one carrying on from last week's!Stab that dude. I would. (Except if it's whoops, the new BF who thought it would be romantic to come through the window....."
Haha, its not the new boyfriend so he deserves to be stabbed!
Jane wrote: "Here's mine, a little short one carrying on from last week's!Kill me now, she thought as she felt lips brush against hers.
She fought to keep herself still, keep pretending she was asleep, if t..."
Yes! I love that she fought back. Hope she got him good!
Bree wrote: "Here I am, back in the game, with somewhat of a horrible story...THE GARAGE. A LOVE STORY.
The garage door slams open and beside me Cory groans.
“Kill me now.”
I gulp and look over the piles a..."
Wow! Didn't see that ending coming! Great one, Bree:)
Here's mine...She sucked in a deep breath, holding in the tears as best as she could. Someone had to be strong. Bo was barely hanging on. The fear, the anguish etched everywhere. From the way he stood, hunched, his shoulders dipping with defeat, to the way his lips curled into a serious frown. He didn’t have any hope left. If he had no hope, then how could she?
“Kill me now. Just do it. It’s okay.”
His breath hitched. “I am not killing you. Don’t say sh*t like that.”
Aching to move even an inch, any which way, she held her body as still as possible. The bomb strapped to her chest could explode with the slightest movement. According to the bomb squad, who Bo talked to, the bomb was unstable. All the wires and c-4 didn’t concern them as much as the small vial filled with an unknown liquid did that was connected directly to a timer.
Bo wouldn’t go into specifics with her about what they exactly said, but that she couldn’t move a muscle.
He couldn’t even move near her. The bomber was watching them. He left a phone near her, not in reaching distance, but it didn’t matter. As soon as Bo realized she went missing, he had known where to look. How? She still couldn’t figure that out, and was too afraid to ask. He showed up within ten minutes of her regaining consciousness. The moment he arrived, the phone rang.
His face contorted into rage as he listened, but said nothing. The only words he spoke were, “You’ll die before the day ends.” Then he threw the phone down where it smashed into pieces, considering it was one of those cheap flip phones. Most likely a burner phone.
Bo had reassured her everything would be fine, then pelted her with questions. Who did this? What did they look like? How long had the timer been ticking?
She couldn’t answer any of it. She didn’t remember anything.
The last thing she remembered was leaving the precinct p*ssed at him, her words resonating in the air. “I can’t do this anymore. Just stay the h*ll away from me.”
As soon as she reached her car, she felt the worst jolt she ever experienced in her life. She figured she got tased. She felt a nasty pain in her back, probably after effects from the taser. Of course, did that really matter anymore? She had a bomb strapped to her chest, ticking away.
15:51…15:50…15:49…
Almost less than 15 minutes before she would die.
Unless Bo killed her.
She managed, after he calmed down enough to speak, to persuade him to tell her what the man said.
Bo had to kill her, one shot to the head, because, of course, he couldn’t shoot her in the chest with a bomb in the way, or the bomb would explode, destroying everything in its path within a three-block radius. Which included a school nearby.
Five minutes had already gone by. Police were trying to evacuate the area, but she didn’t think they’d get everyone out in time.
They were in a residential neighborhood. She was sitting in the home she and Bo were supposed to buy. To build a life.
Now, she’d die here.
The bomber said he could see everything. If Bo approached her, he’d blow everything with a touch of a button. No trying to diffuse the bomb. If Bo didn’t kill her before the time went up, the bomb would explode. As soon as she was dead, he’d disarm the bomb with a touch of a button. Everyone else would live.
One little button had all the control.
“Do it.”
“Godda**it, sweetheart, I’m not killing you!”
“Sweetheart?”
Bo’s eyes filled with pain, even more than before, as he dropped to the ground to his knees. “What you said earlier…I know you meant it. But, baby, I love you. I’m sorry I screwed everything up. I’m sorry for everything.” His eyes said he wanted to come closer and pull her into his arms. “If that bomb explodes, we die together. What is not happening is I. Am. Not. Killing. You. Got it?”
“People will die, Bo. There’s no way—”
“Tell me you love me.”
Her eyes filled with tears. She did love him. So d*mn much. Which is why she had to end things before their love tore them apart.
“Tell me…”
She glanced at the timer.
10:01…10:00…9:59…
Less than ten minutes to live.
Why would someone do this to her? To them? What did she do to deserve this?
“You don’t lo—”
“I love you!” She almost fell over in pain from the amount of love she had for him. “I forgive you. For everything. Now, pick up your weapon and kill me.”
Amanda wrote: "Yes! I love that she fought back. Hope she got him good!"You'll have to wait till next week to find out!
Amanda wrote: "Here's mine...She sucked in a deep breath, holding in the tears as best as she could. Someone had to be strong. Bo was barely hanging on. The fear, the anguish etched everywhere. From the way he ..."
That was great!! Is it wrong I hope the bomb blows up and kills them both?!
Hahaha I figured you'd want something like that to happen. We shall see... *grins evilly*
Amanda wrote: "Hahaha I figured you'd want something like that to happen. We shall see... *grins evilly*"Haha, well its totally romantic if he stays with her so she won't be alone when the bomb blows up right?!
Mod
Ooooh! Love the horribleness!! For reals ^_~
Amanda wrote: "Here's mine..."
Awesome flash! And I second Princess Jane's hope for a tragic R&J-style ending *smirks*
Thanks, Mistress Ann. One of these days I might give in...
I think I'm doing this wrong...I don't have a blog technically so am I supposed to post here or on the loveindieromance site? Suggestion for next week..."we need to talk"Mine...
Zeke’s feet were sore, he was bone-weary and his stomach rumbled, but he was feeling somewhat improved since they had disembarked the blasted ship. The voyage from Point Lookout in Maryland to Jersey City in New Jersey, had been the most agonizing two days of his life. That was saying a great deal considering the last three years. The vessels were so crowded that men slept standing up. Zeke discovered that he was prone to both seasickness and claustrophobia. Benjamin, who was beside him at present, did not suffer from either malady. But since he had been unfortunate enough to have been wedged against Zeke aboard the ship, the reek of both their uniforms added to the unpleasantness of the current situation.
The motion of the train for the last day hadn’t helped his nausea. On top of that, the shoulder, from which Doctor Greenbaum had extracted the minie ball, was aching dully. Zeke and the rest of the ragtag group of gray-clad troops clambered off the train and were ordered to march in two columns along a dirt road. After four days of being hauled here and there by their captors, the men were in no hurry to get where they were going.
Despite the thoroughfare being level and well drained, several men stumbled. They were immediately supported by their fellows. None of them wanted to give the bluecoats the satisfaction of jeering at any rebel soldier who fell out of ranks, much less give them an opportunity to use a bayonet.
As they rounded a bend in the road, a stockade appeared on the left. Zeke judged the newly cut wood wall to be ten to twelve feet in height. It ran for a distance of at least three hundred yards. The houses on the right looked like officer’s quarters for those with families. Zeke took note of distances between them and the fence. He measured his steps. Such information might be vital later.
The Rogersville men had managed to stay together, and they exchanged glances when an open gate came into view. As they passed through, they could see the guard towers with their gun emplacements. They were formidable.
Zeke had seen first hand of the number of men that were crowded into the prisons at Point Lookout. The Yankees knew Maryland was much closer to home for the captured soldiers than New York. It was likely more prisoners would be joining them shortly. The space, which seemed expansive now, would fill up quickly. Zeke shuddered at the memory of the crowded, filthy conditions of the ship. Two days in those circumstances had nearly made him lose his mind. What would he do when the stockade became like the vessel’s hold? “Kill me now,” he murmured.
Mod
Haha yes, a bit wrong but no biggie XP
You can blog on GR if you don't have a website and submit the link to be included on the group site (see comment #1). I LOOOVE the suggestion, ma'am! Just go ahead and comment with it HERE
The only favor I gotta ask is that you not publish your flash fiction on my author website. I deleted it but yeah, I'd rather not delete anyone's comments cuz, well, it makes me feel like a d-bag LOL
Thank youuu!!! And great flash this week, ma'am!!
Hey, delete away if I'm doing it wrong...lolOk so I got it now...
Amanda wrote: "Nice flash, Mary!"Thanks...yours was a real cliffhanger!
Mod
You got it good, ma'am. Reeeeal goood.
I just wanted to say that ^_^ Happy Hump Day, y'all!!!
Hugs,
Ann
Mary Ellen wrote: "I think I'm doing this wrong...I don't have a blog technically so am I supposed to post here or on the loveindieromance site? Suggestion for next week..."we need to talk"Mine...
Zeke’s feet were..."
Great flash fiction, Mary!
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