Two weeks in a row - yay me! 

Taking a stab at #ThursThreads again and I felt drawn back to the snip I started last week with the man in mourning. Last week's prompt and this week's seemed to play nicely together. Not sure if this will eventually become something or not, but just getting the words out as they come. 

All of the entries to #ThursThreads can be found here: ThursThreads

-x-

My entry:

Their penthouse held too many memories, so he stayed away. Without her there, the dwelling was lifeless shell of where they had built their life together. He couldn’t even call it a home anymore. His home died the day she did.

Standing on the balcony of his Hills property where they would often go to get away from the city was no different. It felt cold and lifeless, despite the warm California sun. His only company was her ghost, always lingering near him but never making a sound. Her voice, her touch, all memories now. At least he had an eidetic memory so he wouldn’t forget a single moment he had with her.

“It’s quiet here,” he said to her. “Too quiet.”

She nodded but said nothing.

“What I would do to hear your voice again, your touch.”

Her ghost looked at him sadly but made no move to try to touch him. Like it would matter anyway. She was just a figment of his imagination, his grief manifesting.

His cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it, like he had all of the other calls and texts from his friends -their friends. They were concerned, but he was beyond caring. There wasn’t anything any of them could do. She was gone. He hadn’t talked to anyone since her funeral, unless shouting at God counted. Not that even doing that mattered, since he knew God wasn’t listening. God hadn’t listened for a long time. Why start now?

-x-

Find me on Twitter/X or whatever it's called this week: @mlgammella

Well... it has been some time since I've graced my own blog, but even after a hiatus, it's like riding a bike - you just hop back on and start peddling.

I was able to submit an entry into this week's #ThursThread for the first time since December of 2019. Let's hope my next entry isn't four and a half years from now. The blogpost and all of the other entries can be found here: https://siobhanmuir.com/thursthreads-tying-tales-together-week-605/

For those unfamiliar with this particular flash contest, you are given a prompt and a word count to craft something new. It can be from a current WIP or just something that pops in your mind. I went with something new. 

My entry is below:

The Prompt: 

"I don’t really know how.” 

Word count 100-250 words

It was a beautiful day in Los Angeles, for all that he noticed. The warm ocean breeze ruffled his hair as he stood lost in his thoughts. It could be Hell on Earth and he would remain unmoved. Instead, his focus was on the wedding band he held in his fingers. The delicate platinum band matched the larger one he wore on his ring finger of his left hand. The ring he never ever expected to have to remove from his dead wife’s hand.

“I don’t really know how to do this alone,” he said to her, her ghost in his mind standing next to him.

She smiled sadly but didn’t say anything. How could she? She was a figment of his imagination.

“I never knew how to truly live until you came into my life. How can I go on living now without you?”

His body shook as he tried to contain the despair that ravaged him down to his soul. He fell to his knees, the sand of the beach cushioning his landing.

“Why?” he screamed up to the heavens. “Why her?”

His shouts garnered some odd looks from nearby beachgoers, but even they seemed to pick up on his pain and didn’t disturb him.

“Why did it have to be you?” he asked her ghost.

She knelt next to him but remained silent. If she had the answers, she wasn’t divulging them.

235 words

NaNoWriMo 2019

Yes, I'm doing it. I don't know what I'll be doing, but I'm going to be doing it. The ultimate pantsing.

If you care to follow in the insanity, come follow me and we can motivate one another. :)

#MenageMonday - Water Under Statues Fall

So it's been forever and a day again since I last posted, and last written, really anything, except work emails. The stories are still there, still bouncing around in my brain. They certainly don't let me forget. Finally made time to participate in flash fiction again... this is really the best way to get those creative juices flowing and shake out the mental cobwebs.

Without further ado - my entry into this week's #MenageMonday:

The Phrase: “turn the tables”
The Judge’s Prompt: Berlin (as in Germany)! Can be set there, mentioned, alluded to, but it has to be apparent.
The Photo (sourcing available on the contest website)


Water Under Statues Fall

Safi settled into a spot by the fountain, making what appeared to be a casual selection in his choice. Certain spots were better than others. People watching? Best spot was to the right, along the outside ring of the fountain. Introspection? In the middle facing the center of the fountain where one didn’t have to acknowledge or interact with anyone else. Espionage? To the left, right about where Safi sat, where the pounding water on the cement was at its loudest, drowning out nearly all of the surrounding noise.

Ironic that something built to celebrate the regime’s victory over the subversives would be the location where the new rebellion started.

A shadow briefly crossed in front of Safi. “You made it.”

“Clearly,” came the response from his left, sitting near enough to be heard but not so close for someone to think they were together.

Safi chuckled. Reid wasn’t Reid without his dry sarcasm.

“What’s the latest from Berlin?”

“They’re clueless. They’re so convinced of their superiority and righteousness that they can’t see how precarious their position is.” Reid’s voice dripped with distain and disgust. He had more reason than most to hate the regime and want to see it fall. “The riots are getting worse in the boroughs.”

Safi nodded, the news not unexpected. “It is time.”

Reid stood and walked away. He already knew what the next step was, and would be the first to turn the tables on the regime that killed his entire family.

#MenageMonday - 2x07 - "Full Circle"

Hey - two weeks in a row! Imagine that.

Here's my entry for #MenageMonday and I even made the time-cut off this time. *Score*



The Phrase: “it’s almost over”

The Judge’s Prompt: “then let me die”

The other entries an be found HERE.
My entry is below:

Full Circle

Zayne hoisted himself up the bizarre, barren landscape to a small ledge. In all his travels, he had never seen such a place before. He set down his pack and stretched.

Darius fidgeted in the pack, the stubs of his legs poking at the fabric as he adjusted his position to look upward at the trees protecting the summit.

“Careful, Dar, you don’t want to fall off,” Zayne warned, tugging on the loops of the pack to keep his friend from tumbling over the edge.

“It’s almost over,” Darius muttered, before shaking his head to himself.

“Ready?”

Darius nodded. Zayne slipped the pack over his shoulders again for the final leg of the expedition.

A few hours elapsed as Zayne used ever bit of knowledge in rock climbing that he had to keep him and Darius from tumbling down to the gorges below. Finally, they reached the summit, a square of land with three trees that had seen better days.

Zayne set the pack down and Darius quickly scrambled out, using his arms to propel him across the scrab grass.

“Now what?”

“Leave me.”

“What? I can’t leave you up here. You’ll starve to death.”

“Then let me die.” Before Zayne could speak up, Darius continued. “This is what I want, Zayne. This is where it happened, where I lost everything. ‘Tis only fitting that this is where I die, where I should have originally. It was a mistake I survived.”

@MLGammella
241 Words

ThursdayThreads Week 338 - Poolside

Getting back into the flash fiction circuit again, I realized how much I missed such fun ones as MenageMonday and ThursdayThreads. There were a couple of other weekly flash contests back when I was participating regularly, but it looks like they aren't active anymore, including my own flash fiction blog I had going for awhile. Thankfully there are new ones that I'm getting familiar with and are enjoying like the Mid-Week Flash. Each flash contest is another way to get the creative juices flowing. I've been trying to keep the entries in the world of my current #Nano project, Waking Elizabeth, but it isn't always possible. Today was one of those days. The flash entries that deal with my current WIP may not necessarily make the draft, but it helps me stay in the characters mind. :)

Today is (well, was since it's after midnight, but it's still Thursday to me) Thursday, which means #ThursdayThreads! The prompt was: “They always travel in packs.”

I loved the prompt and the ideas where endless on what you could do with it. Based on the stories submitted on the blog, everyone else had fun with it too. The judge is going to have her work cut out for her.

HERE is where you can read all of the entries.

My story is below. Enjoy!

Poolside

Elizabeth leaned back in her pool lounger and sipped the frozen colorful concoction that Carrie had brought her a moment ago. She had no idea what was in it, but it was delicious. If she drank too many of these, she doubted she’d remember much of the weekend.

Laying poolside at Caesar’s Palace in Las Vegas was not how Elizabeth had planned on her weekend to go, but Carrie finally convinced her to go out for an impromptu girl’s weekend. Elizabeth had to admit to herself, it was nice to get away for a few days, to pretend for a moment, a few days, that she wasn’t in the situation that she was in.

Carrie relaxed next to her, a matching fruity concoction loaded with sugar and alcohol in her hand. “Ah, I could stay here forever.”

“It is rather nice here,” Elizabeth agreed.

“I’m rather partial to the view,” Carrie commented, her eyes following a small group of men walking from the round Temple pool to the nearby Venus pool, their skin glistening from the water.

“They always travel in packs, don’t they?”

“Usually, and that’s part of the fun.”

Both women burst out laughing, causing a couple of the men to look in their direction. Carrie blew them a kiss and waved. Elizabeth hid her face behind her sun hat. The men smiled as they rejoined their friends.

“Today is going to be a lot of fun,” Carrie declared with a devilish smile.

245 Words
@MLGammella

Mid-Week Flash Challenge Week 79 - Home

Hey - two days in a row I've done flash fiction! That hasn't happened in ... well years.

Today was my entry for the Mid-Week Flash Challenge found HERE. Real simple, a picture is provide and you have a week to write up to 750 words about it or what inspires you about it. Can't go wrong with that.

Except I went over the word count.

Oh well - it was a good exercise and I rather like the story.

Check out the other entries at the link provided above and mine is below.

The prompt:


HOME

The pink daisy was waiting for her among the rocks and driftwood on the beach. Soreah had been finding them in various places all day long. She had no idea who had been leaving them or if they were even meant for her.

She looked around to see if anyone was watching her but she appeared to be alone. That was unusual as the island was a popular tourist location and it was smack dab in the middle of tourist season. At this time of day, the beach was usually crowded with couples walking along the beach or having one of those expensive “private” dinners only steps from the water.

She stopped only feet from the daisy, unsure if she should disturb it or not. Curiosity was getting the better of her. Surely if it was meant for someone else, the person who placed it there would speak out before Soreah messed anything up.

With that settled, Soreah knealt and carefully picked up the cheery daisy and brought it to her nose. She had always loved daisies and it had taken a lot of restraint not to pick up each and every one she saw throughout the day. The pollen tickled her nose, making a sneeze creep up her throat, but she was able to stifle it before it escaped.

“I’m glad you finally picked one of them up.”

Soreah jumped and squealed in surprise, wheeling away from the direction of the voice. After a few seconds she was able to catch her breath and looked at the man who spoke, seemingly coming out of the middle of nowhere. She could’ve sworn that she was alone on the beach a second ago.

“You left it for me?”

“Yes, but you left all the rest behind. I brought them with me here.” The strange man held out a dozen more of the pink blooms.

“Um, I—thank you?” Soreah hesitantly took the flowers, still unnerved by the sudden appearance of the man.

“You are quite welcome.” He smiled at her, but it didn’t make her feel any more at ease. His smile was odd, not that it wasn’t a natural smile, because it appeared to be, but just something odd about him and his smile. “Now, aren’t you going to ask me why I had laid them out for you to find?”

This man’s behavior continued to confuse Soreah. She looked behind her briefly, the sun was nearly completely behind the horizon and the darkness was coming in quickly.

“I was just wondering that very thing,” she replied, keeping a much lighter tone than she felt. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

“Well, let me tell you,” the man began. “The first time I saw you, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen and needed to meet you.” Soreah blushed and briefly hid her face in the flowers but didn’t interrupt as the man continued his story. “But I knew a man of my lowly stature couldn’t approach a woman such as yourself without some kind of gift, so I decided I’d lay flowers out for you to find as you went about your day. That part was easy. Figuring out your routine was the hard part.”

Soreah shivered despite the heat of the island. How long had he really been following her?

“Once I had that figured out, I put the flowers out, and viola, here we are. Finally, I get to meet you.” The man’s smile deepened, which did nothing to alleviate Soreah’s concerns.

“Thank you, that is very sweet of you, but I can’t-“

“Ah, you cannot deny me, Soreah,” the man said, in the most reasonable tone of voice she had ever heard.

“How do you know my name?” She took a step back, fear starting to pulsate through her body. Her nose tickled again, and this time she couldn’t fight off the sneeze.

“I know lots of things about you.” The man took a stop closer to her, closing in the distance she just made between the two of them. Then he took another step and another until he was right in front of her.

“Look, I’m sorry-“ Soreah began before she sneezed again.

“Like I know the agent I dusted those daisies with should be kicking in right now.”

Shocked, Soreah tried to step back, to escape, but the burning sensation in her nose was worsening now, making it hard to breathe. Her eyes were starting to water.
“What did you do to me?” she gasped, falling to the sand and trying to crawl away.

“Nothing that any man who was in love wouldn’t do,” the man replied calmly.

Soreah’s vision started to spot and panic sat like a lead balloon in her chest. She continued to try to crawl away but whatever drugs or chemicals he put in those flowers was affecting her coordination.

“Oh don’t worry, Soreah. I have everything you could possibly need.”

“What?” she cried weakly.

“Don’t you worry about a thing,” he cooed, approaching her again, kneeling beside her. “I’ll take care of you. Now that I found you, I’m never letting you go.”

Soreah struggled to get away but couldn’t make her body cooperate. The last thing Soreah remembered was feeling his cold and clammy hands on her body as he picked her up.

“Time to go home, Soreah.”