I didn't get a chance to play at Kat's TuesFlashFicTrain last week, but Stacy'sentry was perfect. Here's what I came up with to follow.
Gloria backed out of the room never taking her eyes off Harvey’s back. With nowhere else to go, she returned to the supply closet. She ducked inside and pulled the door shut.
She kept one ear to the door as she lit one of the candles she’d just collected. “I don’t know what’s going on,” she whispered to the flickering taper, “but if Harvey thinks he can ‘take care’ of me, he’s got another thing coming.!”
Squinting in the restless light, Gloria scanned the overflowing shelves. “Ah ha!” she grabbed a small pouch tucked neatly between two jars.
“Won’t be quite as powerful without my wand, but it’ll have to do.”
She poured just a pinch of silver powder from the pouch into the palm of her hand. After reciting a short incantation, Gloria blew the shimmering dust into the air; then walked beneath it.
She exited the closet again, shutting the door with a firm hand. Gloria walked back to the office to see Harvey expectantly awaiting her, having heard the door close.
“There you are, Glo.” Harvey smiled, “I thought I’d catch you before you went on break, get this over with.”
Gloria smiled back, the candles clutched in her hand. “Sure, Harvey. What’s this meeting about anyhow?”
“Oh, just some security measures we need to go over.”
Gloria kept smiling. “Okay, your office?”
“Yeah, that’s perfect!” Harvey grinned as he gestured for her to precede him.
Harvey and his companion exited the office and strolled down the narrow hallway past the supply closet and turned the next corner.
A few minutes after they passed, the closet door opened a sliver; then wider as Gloria stepped out. She ran quickly to her desk and snatched her wand and a book of basic spells. Her pocket bulged with what she hoped would be the most useful ingredients to find out what the two men and her sleazy supervisor were up to.
She also carried a shimmering invisibility shawl. Before she left the office again, she threw it over her shoulders. As soon as Harvey figured out the ‘Gloria’ he was escorting to his office was actually the janitor’s dust mop, he’d be back.
Friday, April 15, 2016
Saturday, April 2, 2016
Without the Letter Before B
Muddled through this week's 100 Word Chllenge without the letter before B.
None of those. Not here. They’ll throw you out if you do.
I’m serious. Mustn’t do it!
How difficult could it be?
Terribly difficult.
See, words ditto-ing themselves so soon.
But, finished one fourth!
Trying to think thoughts without them.
Mind numbing!
Fingers fidgeting over the keys.
The first to come to mind, must be thrown out.
Shuffling through the options.
Begin over.
Sighs upon sighs.
Over fifty percent now.
Ooh! Two thirds!
Heh heh, three fourths to the end.
Not much longer, four fifths.
I will do it!
Such silliness to nine tenths.
Relief!
I’ve found the end.
Friday, April 1, 2016
Flash Fiction Train Challenge R4-W1
Popping into the Tuesday Flash Fiction Challenge with Kat Avila again. Here's this week's offering.
Gloria hustled to grab her jacket from the locker room, then ran for the time clock. She’d gotten a late start this evening; her keys managing to not be where she’d expected. Ten minutes wasted searching for them left her rushing to be at her post on time. As she rounded the corner she slammed into Harvey.
“Pushing the time limits tonight, Glo?” he asked.
Gloria muttered about the missing keys as she attempted to side-step the assistant supervisor. He anticipated the move and blocked her escape. “Don’t forget to check in on your break tonight. I need a word with you.”
“Yeah, sure.” Gloria made another attempt to pass him.
Harvey grabbed her arm, his eyes bored into hers, “Seriously, Gloria, you need to show up this time.”
She wrenched her arm from his grasp, “Fine, Harvey, I’ll find you.” She stared at him until he stepped aside and let her pass. As she hurried away, she could feel him watching her. Shivers rippled up her back telling her to turn and make certain he hadn’t followed her. She resisted the urge; this time. She supposed she’d better make the meeting, Harvey would make the paranoia worse if she kept defying him.
Gloria punched her card with one minute to spare. The sense of relief she’d gotten from being on time faded as she walked the long hall to her cubicle. At this hour no one else was on duty. The dim night-lights cast eerie shadows along the way.
She hated the night shift. The old building seemed intent on letting her know she was alone in this section. Random thumps and groans echoed down the hallway. When she reached her department, the only light came from her desk. At least someone had left it on for her. She shuffled to the space as quietly as she could. The rap of her heels only accentuated the empty desks she passed on the way.
Gloria dropped into her chair with a sigh. The screen in front of her was already filling with tasks to be attended. She opened the large drawer in the desk and cringed as it uttered a metallic shriek. Shuddering, she dropped her handbag inside and kicked it shut. She gingerly tested the next drawer, relieved with its hushed compliance. She shuffled through its interior until she located her wand and candles.
After printing out the list of problems to fix, she pulled up a map of the city and zoomed in on her sector.
Saturday, March 19, 2016
Flash Fiction Train; Round 3, Part 5
Sneaking in at the very last minute with my offering for Kat Avila's Tuesday Flash Fiction Train
Rita stood in the middle of the aisle, eyes squeezed shut. The screams no longer reached her ears and she shuddered in anguish at the result of her rage. The memories had flooded her mind, intermingled with the taunts of the old woman and other passengers.
She had let it overcome her.
A hand touched her shoulder then stroked her cheek.
“Rita.”
She ignored the whisper, soft and warm as a summer’s breeze. But Walter would not be shunned.
“Rita, open your eyes. Look at me.”
“Nooo,” she sobbed, “I can’t look! I can’t!”
She could hear the people on the bus again. “What’s wrong with you, girly girl?” it was the screech of the old woman.
Again she heard the soft voice, “Hush now, Lucy. You haven’t walked in her steps. Go still yourself.”
“But…”
“Sit, Lucy.”
As Rita finally opened her eyes, she saw the old woman trudge to an empty seat. The bus moved steadily down the street, the passengers still staring at her, but without the hostility she remembered. There was no blood, no shattered windows. No one screamed.
Rita looked back to Walter, “I thought…I thought I killed them!”
“You almost did.” Walter said, “but you stopped before it became real. You chose life over death.”
“How?”
Walter smiled at her. “Because you are stronger than the coven. They couldn’t control you as easily as they thought.”
“But the memories, the pain.”
“Lies. All of it.”
Rita shook her head in confusion, it had seemed so real. But as she tried to recall the fear and hate, the feelings faded.
“You are free, Rita.” As he turned to go, Walter looked back one more time, “See you in my dreams.”
Rita stood in the middle of the aisle, eyes squeezed shut. The screams no longer reached her ears and she shuddered in anguish at the result of her rage. The memories had flooded her mind, intermingled with the taunts of the old woman and other passengers.
She had let it overcome her.
A hand touched her shoulder then stroked her cheek.
“Rita.”
She ignored the whisper, soft and warm as a summer’s breeze. But Walter would not be shunned.
“Rita, open your eyes. Look at me.”
“Nooo,” she sobbed, “I can’t look! I can’t!”
She could hear the people on the bus again. “What’s wrong with you, girly girl?” it was the screech of the old woman.
Again she heard the soft voice, “Hush now, Lucy. You haven’t walked in her steps. Go still yourself.”
“But…”
“Sit, Lucy.”
As Rita finally opened her eyes, she saw the old woman trudge to an empty seat. The bus moved steadily down the street, the passengers still staring at her, but without the hostility she remembered. There was no blood, no shattered windows. No one screamed.
Rita looked back to Walter, “I thought…I thought I killed them!”
“You almost did.” Walter said, “but you stopped before it became real. You chose life over death.”
“How?”
Walter smiled at her. “Because you are stronger than the coven. They couldn’t control you as easily as they thought.”
“But the memories, the pain.”
“Lies. All of it.”
Rita shook her head in confusion, it had seemed so real. But as she tried to recall the fear and hate, the feelings faded.
“You are free, Rita.” As he turned to go, Walter looked back one more time, “See you in my dreams.”
Friday, March 4, 2016
Blown Away
My offering for this week's Coldly Calculating prompt at Our Write Side.
Sherry sat on the back porch listening to the newly opened leaves shuffle against each other in the gusty spring air. She loved the smell of fresh growth. Though this morning it was tainted with the strong flavor of bleach..
She sighed, it couldn’t be helped. In the end, bleach was the only answer. Some things just couldn’t be washed away with soap and water. At least not entirely.
She rose from her seat and headed for the garage. Once there, she searched the neatly organized shelves. “Ah! There you are!” she grinned as she bent to retrieve the mason jar filled with the soft blue hue chosen for her bedroom. “And he thought I was silly to save some of the paint.”
Rummaging further, Sherry found a paint brush. it had been carefully cleaned and stored after use. She glanced around the garage contentedly. Everything neat and tidy. Just as it should be.
She took the brush and jar inside. Refusing to be distracted by the clutter in the kitchen, Sherry strode purposefully into the bedroom. It would only take a few minutes to touch up the spots left by the scouring pad.
After she finished, she scurried through the kitchen once more; only taking time to toss the blue tinged brush at the sink. Once the jar was tucked safely back on its shelf in the garage, she took a deep breath. The kitchen would have to be tackled next. The longer she left it, the more stressed she’d get.
As Sherry crossed the yard, she was momentarily mesmerized by the movement of three sheets waving lazily in the breeze. They were secured to the line with her grandmother’s old clothespins. She smiled. No hint of stain was visible in the bright spring sunshine.
Now, on to the kitchen she told herself. With lips pressed in a determined line, she stepped into the space.
He’d thought he surprise her with a spaghetti dinner. It had been thoughtful of him she supposed. But what could he have been thinking? Leaving puddles of sauce on her normally spotless stove. And so many pans crusted with filth in her shiny sink.
Sherry swallowed the bile and dove into the task.
Well, at least it wasn’t a mistake he’d make again.
Sherry sat on the back porch listening to the newly opened leaves shuffle against each other in the gusty spring air. She loved the smell of fresh growth. Though this morning it was tainted with the strong flavor of bleach..
She sighed, it couldn’t be helped. In the end, bleach was the only answer. Some things just couldn’t be washed away with soap and water. At least not entirely.
She rose from her seat and headed for the garage. Once there, she searched the neatly organized shelves. “Ah! There you are!” she grinned as she bent to retrieve the mason jar filled with the soft blue hue chosen for her bedroom. “And he thought I was silly to save some of the paint.”
Rummaging further, Sherry found a paint brush. it had been carefully cleaned and stored after use. She glanced around the garage contentedly. Everything neat and tidy. Just as it should be.
She took the brush and jar inside. Refusing to be distracted by the clutter in the kitchen, Sherry strode purposefully into the bedroom. It would only take a few minutes to touch up the spots left by the scouring pad.
After she finished, she scurried through the kitchen once more; only taking time to toss the blue tinged brush at the sink. Once the jar was tucked safely back on its shelf in the garage, she took a deep breath. The kitchen would have to be tackled next. The longer she left it, the more stressed she’d get.
As Sherry crossed the yard, she was momentarily mesmerized by the movement of three sheets waving lazily in the breeze. They were secured to the line with her grandmother’s old clothespins. She smiled. No hint of stain was visible in the bright spring sunshine.
Now, on to the kitchen she told herself. With lips pressed in a determined line, she stepped into the space.
He’d thought he surprise her with a spaghetti dinner. It had been thoughtful of him she supposed. But what could he have been thinking? Leaving puddles of sauce on her normally spotless stove. And so many pans crusted with filth in her shiny sink.
Sherry swallowed the bile and dove into the task.
Well, at least it wasn’t a mistake he’d make again.
Riding the Flash Fiction Train, Round 3/Week 3
I've been regularly joining in at Kat Avila'a Fiction Trials to play a story writing challenge. Check out this week's offerings, then come back to play on the Flash Fiction Train. Here's my offering...
Rita glared at her reflection in the mirror. She looked awful. The cold wasn’t budging and it was just a miracle she made it through the conference call. Thankfully Laura had been on her game and kept the conversation grounded.
A yawn, interrupted by a new bout of coughing brought Rita back to the perusal of her image. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. Her nose reddened and tender from the continuous application of tissues. With a sigh she pulled the bottle from the medicine cabinet.
As much as she needed to dampen her symptoms and get a good night’s sleep, Rita was hesitant to dose herself again. The dreams induced by the vile liquid were becoming harder to shake off. The most recent dream had conjured a name for the mystery man. At the thought, Rita’s lips tingled at the memory.
“No.” She spoke to the mirror, “I'm not going to do it!”
She replaced the bottle and shuffled out of the bathroom. Her slippers scuffed the carpet, the small noise causing her head to pound. She dropped onto the couch grabbing the knitted throw from the back. She wrapped herself in its warmth. As long as she stayed upright she kept the drainage from choking her. She closed her eyes and drifted into an unsettled doze.
“You're back! I didn’t think I would see you so soon.” He reached to stroke her cheek.
Rita pulled back, “Who are you? Why do you haunt my sleep?”
His eyes filled with hurt, “I’m Walter. I’ve always been here for you.”
“Not always. Only if I use that gawd-awful cold medicine.” Rita narrowed her eyes, “which I did not take tonight!”
“No, I’m always here, Rita. You just don’t remember…”
“Oh, I’d remember, just like I remembered last night’s dream.”
Walter sighed, “It’s not a dream to me, Rita.”
“Really? Then, I think it’s time you explain why that is!”
Rita glared at her reflection in the mirror. She looked awful. The cold wasn’t budging and it was just a miracle she made it through the conference call. Thankfully Laura had been on her game and kept the conversation grounded.
A yawn, interrupted by a new bout of coughing brought Rita back to the perusal of her image. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. Her nose reddened and tender from the continuous application of tissues. With a sigh she pulled the bottle from the medicine cabinet.
As much as she needed to dampen her symptoms and get a good night’s sleep, Rita was hesitant to dose herself again. The dreams induced by the vile liquid were becoming harder to shake off. The most recent dream had conjured a name for the mystery man. At the thought, Rita’s lips tingled at the memory.
“No.” She spoke to the mirror, “I'm not going to do it!”
She replaced the bottle and shuffled out of the bathroom. Her slippers scuffed the carpet, the small noise causing her head to pound. She dropped onto the couch grabbing the knitted throw from the back. She wrapped herself in its warmth. As long as she stayed upright she kept the drainage from choking her. She closed her eyes and drifted into an unsettled doze.
“You're back! I didn’t think I would see you so soon.” He reached to stroke her cheek.
Rita pulled back, “Who are you? Why do you haunt my sleep?”
His eyes filled with hurt, “I’m Walter. I’ve always been here for you.”
“Not always. Only if I use that gawd-awful cold medicine.” Rita narrowed her eyes, “which I did not take tonight!”
“No, I’m always here, Rita. You just don’t remember…”
“Oh, I’d remember, just like I remembered last night’s dream.”
Walter sighed, “It’s not a dream to me, Rita.”
“Really? Then, I think it’s time you explain why that is!”
Tuesday, February 23, 2016
The Paper
Sneaking in to The 100 Word Challenge at the last minute with my offering; a memory.
It lay on the front walk. Wrapped in an orange plastic baggie. I watch it from the window, that bright beacon, begging me to rescue it.
It calls to me. “Look! The Times’ Crossword, and don’t forget the sudoku.”
I gaze at it as morning slips to the afternoon. “I’m the Sunday paper; comics, sales stuffers, coupons and news!”
The afternoon wanes, still it beckons. “Editorials?”
Just before the sun sets, I rise from my chair and bring it in.
Turning the pages hesitantly.
I gasp at his picture; though I knew it would be there.
Under the heading: Obituaries.
It lay on the front walk. Wrapped in an orange plastic baggie. I watch it from the window, that bright beacon, begging me to rescue it.
It calls to me. “Look! The Times’ Crossword, and don’t forget the sudoku.”
I gaze at it as morning slips to the afternoon. “I’m the Sunday paper; comics, sales stuffers, coupons and news!”
The afternoon wanes, still it beckons. “Editorials?”
Just before the sun sets, I rise from my chair and bring it in.
Turning the pages hesitantly.
I gasp at his picture; though I knew it would be there.
Under the heading: Obituaries.
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