10-Word Short ShortMoving toward the horizon with endless disappointment, I finally stop 10-Word Short ShortRussell's breathing is laboured as the machine's whirr quietens. 140 Characters Short Short - prompt: 'the last straw'The message revealed what he least wanted to hear, and now he could leave without regret.
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Maudine couldn’t leave good enough alone. She picked at the wound until a generous mixture of blood and pus oozed out. The perimeter had enlarged two-fold and had become difficult to conceal. It had been festering something awful since yesterday and now gave off a putrid mustard stink. Tucked away in the upstairs bedroom hidden from prying eyes, she felt free to indulge. Her fingers worked independently and deliberately to peel back the inflamed skin flap. Flinching with every tug, her lips pursed tight keeping the screams locked inside. The searing pain hit, hard, her head swimming in nausea. She took pause every few seconds, to catch her breath, to savour the accompanying relief. Soon she felt nothing at all. Maudine detached from her surroundings. She was unaware of the passing of time, the passing of her young life. Her practiced fingers vacillated between nursing the grisly damage and mutilating nubile flesh. Hovering out of body, she was oblivious to the approaching footsteps. Jerome bent on confrontation, his engorged tatts pulsating through a soiled, buff, tank, lurked around the corner. He burst into the room yelling at her to cut it out, threatening he’d tie her hands down if she could not control herself. Maudine cowered. ‘He was a miserable shit. Didn’t know when to mind his own business.' Her gut clenched, a vice grip holding back vomit and rage. She swallowed it whole. Gunmetal eyes bore down on her. She recognized the emotionless glare. The frenzy and combustible force was over. Jerome flicked his hand in disgust and pivoted on cowboy heels satisfied he had inflicted ample torment, and stormed out. Welts and humiliation were left throbbing. Maudine didn’t dare move. She remained on high alert until she heard the full-throated growl of the motorcycle revving up to leave the compound. Silence swelled to fill the space inside her head. The room reeked of fear and desperation no ventilator fan could ever drive out. She did not have long. Maudine harboured no thoughts of escape. She had nowhere to go. She had been down that road before. Ignoring a faint reminder of life that once held promise, she followed the dark voice inside that pulled her beneath the surface. And with the ringing of the death knell, she was gone. Maudine burrowed deeper into the gaping hole until her nails hit bone. The pain was acute and arresting, a welcome distraction from her pathetic life. Word prompt - 'bloodstained' - 121 & 101 word count flash fiction contest Word Prompt: 'distraction' Published in 'Blood Puddles: Night Terrors & Day Mares' Anthology, May 2018 Abigail spun in her chair, jumped up, and exited the cubicle she occupied 7 hours each weekday. She sprinted towards the stairwell and kicked off her Manolos to gain traction. The fire alarm was bleating with no intervals now. And it was deafening. Reaching a near frantic speed she realized she failed to grab her purse and was without her phone. Emmie would be worried, no terrified. The news would be all over Youtube. She would reach her once she exited the building, and felt momentarily reassured. Abigail, Meaghan, Sanjeep, and Asher reached the top of the stairs simultaneously, restrained panic in their eyes. Yelling over the sound of the warning buzzer Asher took charge, his broad shoulders gesticulating toward the best route to descend. Instantly smoke began to billow up the stairwell infiltrating the mezzanine and forcing them to retreat. Without discussion and in unison they regrouped to make their way to the kitchenette. The window although tiny, could be breached to reach the outside scaffolding. They could hear the sirens approaching now, but did not slow down their momentum or resolve. Meaghan went first. Her slender legs scraping the sides of the sill leaving blood trickling down the white subway tiles. Abigail followed, anxious about whether she would fit through at all. She turned to the men, knowing they were both too bulky to make it though, and forced a reassuring nod. Asher gave her a push, her tears now streaming impaired the clarity of the escape route ahead, and helped thrust her body forward through the stained cavity. Turning abruptly as she stepped onto the iron platform on the other side, she could no longer see either colleague. She knew they were already scuttling to find another sortie. The fire truck had arrived and would surly reach them in time. Abigail inched closer to Meaghan on the precipice and tightened her grip on the overhead steel bar. The stench and black smoke now snaking out through the window above was ominous and final. She did not feel confident. Abigail whimpered softly and fixated on Emmie, her eternal happy place. Word Prompt: 10 minute free write - "your happy place" How can I move these dumb assholes? We have to raise at least $1500 today. Ephraim seethed, fumbling the pewter collection plate. He settled it on the edge of the parson’s table and considered his next steps. The stakes were high. He would have to be especially clever that evening. Sucking in through badly neglected teeth, he hissed and cackled while crafting his pitch. If only the divine inspired, he could pull it off, he reasoned. Intensifying his efforts, he paced, hands wringing, and chewed the inside of his cheek until it oozed warm blood. The sharp metallic taste aroused him. He visualized wads of greenbacks. It helped. Within moments it all came together. He knew what he would say. He felt wicked, brazen, and properly well prepared. Smirking involuntarily, he peeked through the curtains to watch the suckers queue up to pay the entrance fee. Listening for unwanted footsteps, he pulled the master key out of his tunic pocket and locked the desk drawer. The ledger was now safely hidden from prying eyes; best not to trust anyone. It was not the time for reckoning. That would come later. Ephraim danced light as air on tippy toes like a prizefighter preparing to enter the ring, his moves serpentine and beguiling. He tossed back his head to shake off the excess energy and tone down his ill-timed foolery. He would soon have them in the palm of his hands. For a moment he thought he detected a low murmur emanating from the tabernacle in the corner, ‘raise your hand if you’re a believer’. It was easy to dismiss. He had heard it many times before. The call buzzer startled him although he had been listening for it. Rocky’s ascent up the stone steps flashed before his eyes as he mouthed an exaggerated ‘Gonna Fly Now’. He was pumped. He took a deep breath, smeared his fingertips with his pasty white tongue and smoothed the bristles on top of his head. Crossing himself absent-mindedly, Ephraim stepped out into the limelight to deliver his sermon with shameless confidence. Show time! Writing Prompt - 10 minutes free write: queue, key, smirk, and fumble Eddie pried open the silver plate mouth engraved with ‘5 cents’ and jammed his fingers up into the shaft of the bubblegum machine. His chubby digits wiggled furiously as he tried to dislodge the blockage, but nothing budged, nothing wanted out. Weaving his free hand around the back of the square canister he gave it a firm yank and pulled it forward from its perch. With a gentle blow he unsettled the layer of dust accumulating behind it revealing a small chamois pouch. He picked up his little find and carefully lowered the machine back into its accustomed place. His fingers delighted in exploring its velvety softness. It bore a pale fawn colour and gave off an unfamiliar smell. Eddie gave the little pouch an expectant shake, and it quickly responded with a thin metallic ring. Two loops gathered at the top un-threaded easily, revealing the prize inside. A handful of silver coin was exposed. Eddie examined the coins’ buffalo detail carefully. He wasn’t sure if it was a buffalo or bison. He didn’t really know the difference. He counted them out on the bench below. There were twelve, not all shiny but definitely all old. Full of delight, Eddie skipped off clutching his prize and easily forgot his earlier excitement and find, leaving the red, green, blue, yellow, and white gumballs still encased and irretrievable, or so he thought. 5 minutes writing prompt: photo above |
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April 2024
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