Zhen’s Dream

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Face pressed against the window, Zhen stared at the woman trying on the red shoes while her husband, in the expensive suit sat there.  One of these days, I’ll be like her, trying on fancy shoes in a fancy store and married to a man in a fancy suit.

“Daydreaming again?” an impatient voice asked.  It was Ming.  “When are you going to get it into your head that you won’t have the kind of life you’re dreaming about?  Which decent man’s going to marry you?”

“Do you know who that is?”

Ming stared at the woman in the store and shook her head.  “No.”

“That’s Shu.  She was one of us and now look at her.”

Ming gawked at Shu.  “Really?”

“Yes.  So, if she can do it, so can I.”

Just then, the door of the store opened and a voice yelled, “Go away.  We don’t want your kind of business here.”

“I’m going to have Shu’s kind of life one of these days,” Zhen vowed as they hustled away.

172 Words

This was written as part of Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers by Priceless Joy. For more information visit Here.  To read other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.

What We See

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Photo Credit: Joy Pixley

“What do you see?” Lara asked the group as they sat watching slides of photos she had taken of her last trip.

“I see an ape’s skull,” Veronica said.

“I see an odd shaped rock,” Betty said.

“I see God’s creation,” Ruth said after some hesitation and received curious stares.

Betty rolled her eyes.  “I’m so sick and tired of you people.”

Lara looked at her.  “Who’re you people?” Her expression was censorious as she waited for her reply.  Trust Betty to say something derogatory.

“Christians,” she replied caustically.  “It never fails.  They’re always trying to shove their beliefs down our throats.”

Ruth faced her.  “I wasn’t doing that.  I was answering Lara’s question.  You saw one thing and I saw another.”

“Why can’t we leave God out of this for a change? Why do you have to mention Him every time we get together?

Ruth looked sad.  “I’m sorry if my faith offends you.  It sustains me.”

“You trust in a God who doesn’t exist.”

“Why don’t you think He exists?”

“Because He didn’t prevent what happened to my Josh.”

Then, Ruth remembered.  Josh was among those shot in church last year.  “Betty, I’m sorry…”

Tears filled Betty’s eyes.

200 Words

This was written as part of Sunday Photo Fiction hosted by Susan Spaulding. For more details visit Here.

Horatio Clarke/Stone #writephoto

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Photo courtesy of Sue Vincent

Cora walked along the path, the new bonnet in her hand.  While the family was entertaining the vicar and his family, she opted to venture out here.  Her face was turned up to the sky, her flushed cheeks becoming.  She wanted to loosened her raven dark so that it tumbled down her back but that won’t do for a young lady.  Sometimes she envied her little sister, Della who could wear her thick auburn hair down.

She hitched up her skirt and ran the rest of the way, leaning against the stone when she reached the top.  What a glorious day, she thought spreading her arms wide like a bird.  Up here she felt free–free from convention.  She disliked sitting in the parlor, drinking tea and listening to boring conversations.  Most of the time, her body was there but her mind was here.

Besides, she was tired of being asked the same insidious questions.  “Are there no young men who have won your affections?” or “What about Henry Taylor?  He’s a very amiable young man with a very handsome fortune.  You wouldn’t want of anything, my Dear.”

No, none of the men in Yorkshire had so much as stirred any interest much less won her affections and as amiable as he may be, Henry Taylor didn’t tickle her fancy at all.  Why couldn’t they be satisfied that her elder sister, Edith had formed an attachment to the very handsome and very agreeable Mr. Fairfax?  It was only a matter of time before an engagement would be announced.  She liked Bernard very well.  He would be an excellent brother to her and Della.

She was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she didn’t notice him until he was almost upon her.  It was a man riding very gallantly on a beautiful white steed.  He looked stark against the animal because he was dressed completely in black.  Even his hair was black and the black cloak billowing behind him, reminded her of Count Dracula.

He dug his spurs into the horse’s sides and he came to a halt.  In one fluid and quick movement, he dismounted the animal and stood, over six feet tall, a few feet away from her.  He was very handsome.  His hair, thick and unruly, was blacker than hers.  Light brown eyes framed by enviably long dark lashes met her hazel gaze.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted her.  “I hope I’m not intruding.”

She shook her head.  “No, Sir, you’re not.”

“I like to ride up here,” he said.  “It’s very quiet and pleasant.  Do you come here often?”

“No, not often.”

“From whence did you come?”

“Fairhead’s Gate.”

“Fairhead’s Gate?” His black brows arched.  “Are you by any chance acquainted with Miss Edith Phillips?”

“She’s my older sister.”

“Then you must be Cora,” he said.  “Oh, permit me to introduce myself.  I’m Horatio Clarke.”

She stared blankly at him.  When he’d said, Horatio, she half expected him to add the name, “Hornblower.”

He looked amused.  “I see that Bernard has neglected to tell you about his roguish cousin.”

Her eyes widened.  “You’re Bernard’s cousin?” she exclaimed.  “But you look nothing like him.  He’s fair haired and ruddy and you’re–”

“Dark and rakish looking it.  I sometimes believe I have a little gypsy blood in me.”  His lips parted to reveal even white teeth.  He was quiet charming and disarming too.

Well, what ever he had pumping in his veins, he was unlike any man she had ever met.  He got her pulse racing and her heart pounding with excitement.  He was older than the men she knew too.  She guessed that he was five and thirty–fifteen years her senior.  Surely a man such as he could not still be unattached.  Whoever she was, she was very fortunate and she envied her.

She realized she was staring and she looked away, her face turning crimson.  “Perhaps, I should leave now,” she said.

“What?  You want to take leave of me so soon?” he inquired.

“It looks like it shall rain,” she said.

He gazed up at the sky.  “Yes, it does,” he agreed.  “Very well, Miss Phillips, I shall take you home.”

She looked at him in dismay.  “No, please, I don’t mind walking–”

“I insist,” he said.  “It would be rather remiss of me to let a lady get caught in the rain when I could have easily borne her to her abode.”

“Very well,” she said, realizing that it was pointless to protest any further and thought it rather kind of him to offer her a ride home.  She put on her bonnet and her heart lurched when he put his hands on her waist and hoisted her up onto the horse.  He climbed up and off they went.  This time his cloak didn’t stream behind him.  She clung to him for dear life, her eyes squeezed shut.  She had never ridden on a horse before.  It was terrifying.

She was relieved when they reached her family’s residence.  He got down and then helped her off.  Her legs felt wobbly.  He didn’t remove his hands from her waist until he was satisfied that she had regained her balance.  “Now, Miss Phillips, I shall bid you farewell but not before I ask your permission to call upon you tomorrow evening.”

It was hard to think sensibly when he was standing so close to her.  “Call upon me?” she repeated.  “But what about your young lady?”

His brows arched quizzically.  “My young lady?”

“Do you not have a young lady, Sir?”

He shook his head.  “No, Miss Phillips, I do not have a young lady.  Like you, I am unattached.”

She smiled for the first time since they met.  “Then, you may call upon me tomorrow evening, Mr. Clarke.”

He smiled and bowed.  “Tomorrow evening, then.  Good afternoon.”

She curtsied.  “Good afternoon.”

He swung up onto the horse and galloped off.

She watched him until he disappeared from view and then she walked slowly up the path to her house, just as the first drops of rain began to fall.  Oh, dear, she thought.  Mr. Clarke shall get soaked.

This is a response to the Thursday Photo Prompt – Stone at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.

Mildred’s Secret

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PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

As Jim and his son, Joe walked her home, Mildred’s steps slowed.  She wanted to tell them that she didn’t want to go home and why but, would they believe her?  Maybe if she showed them the bruises…No, that would only make Bob mad.

She glanced up at Joe, such a sweet young man.  Jim was lucky to have him for a son.  If only her Bob were like Joe…

After they left, she closed the door.  When she turned, Bob was standing there.  “I’ve been starving while you were out having a good time?”  He struck her.

 

99 Words

This is fiction but elder abuse is very real.   Sadly, the abusers can be sons or daughters who are supposed to be caring for their parents.

Written as part of the Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields For more details, visit Here.

To read stories of 100 words based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.

Megan

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He stood gazing out at the lake in front of the cabin.  “I’m glad we came for the weekend,” he said.

“Me too,” she agreed.  “Too bad Megan can’t be here.”

He turned around and his face went ashen when he saw the revolver in her hand.  “Joanne, what are you doing with that?”

She saw the fear on his face.  “This is how Megan felt every time you molested her—powerless.

“She told you that?”

“No.  It’s in her diary.  How could you, Steve?  She’s your daughter.”

Step-daughter.”

“And that makes it okay?”

“No.”

“Admit your guilt.”

“I didn’t mean to do it but I couldn’t help myself.”

“Did you get that?”

Steve looked bewildered.  “What’s going on?”

Just then two police officers showed up.  He was read his rights and taken away.

Joanne handed the revolver which wasn’t loaded to the officer.

“You need to come to the station.”

“After I see my daughter.”

Megan was awake.  Her wrists were bandaged.  “Tic tac toe, Mom?”

“Sure, Honey.  I’ll play for you.”

 

174 Words

This was written as part of Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.  For more information visit Here.  If you want to read other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.

Luis

Nichelle watched Luis as he sat at a table by the window of a Tapas restaurant having lunch with a very beautiful woman.  She had thick black hair and olive skin.  Who is she and what is he doing with her? she wondered jealously.  She wanted to go over there and find out but she didn’t want to make a fool of herself.  Instead, she grabbed the takeout and quickly walked out.

All the way back to the office, she fumed.  Was he playing her?  Didn’t last night mean anything to him?  It was the first time they made love since they met last month and it had been explosive.  She felt her body react as she had flashbacks.  He was like a wild animal.  And afterwards, they lay spent, arms and legs wrapped around each other.

When she woke up this morning, he had already left but on the kitchen table was a covered plate.  When she lifted the lid, it was a Spanish Omelet.  It was hot and delicious.  She finished it in no time and washed it down with a cup of hot chocolate.  He was an excellent cook and it warmed her heart that he had taken the time to make breakfast for her.  Wasn’t that an indicator that he had feelings for her?  If that’s the case, why was he having lunch with another woman? a traitorous voice inquired.

The take out sat unopened on her desk as she didn’t have an appetite because she was so upset.  The tears threatened to come but she blinked them back, determined not to lose it at work.  There would be plenty of time to break down and let the tears flow like the rapids when she got home later.

Somehow, she managed to get through the rest of the afternoon but as soon as it was five o’ clock, she packed up and was out of the office like a flash.  She turned the radio in her car but turned it off immediately when she heard a slow jam she and Luis had danced to when they went to a nightclub on their fourth date.  Things had gotten hot and heavy between them on the dance-floor.  She was acutely aware of him.  Their bodies were touching.  The smell of his aftershave filled her nostrils and his hand pressed into the small of her back as they moved to the music.

When the music ended, they walked back to the table, his hand around her waist.  She noticed the admiring glances several woman tossed his way but he seemed oblivious to them.  And when he took her home, he gazed down at her, his dark eyes searing her before he bent his head and kissed her.  His lips moved hungrily on hers, making her head spin and her knees go weak.  She clung to him, her fingers gripping the sleeves of his jacket as she responded feverishly to his kisses.  And then, he broke it off, breathing heavily, his eyes smoldering with desire.  “I’d better leave,” he panted, releasing her.

She stared at him, bereft, longing for him to take her in his arms again but he was stepping away, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides as though he were trying to control his emotions.  “All right,” she said, unable to hide the disappointment on her face.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said before he turned and walked away.

She closed the door and leaned against it, frustrated.  After she took a cold shower, she went to bed.

Now, she was frustrated but for a totally different reason.  She let herself into her flat and headed straight for the bathroom where she took a hot shower.  After donning a pair of pajamas, she was about to fix herself a salad when the doorbell rang.  Sighing she left the kitchen and walked to the foyer.  She really wasn’t in the mood for company.  She peered through the keyhole, her heart skipping a beat when she saw that it was Luis.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door.  He looked so good in the white silk shirt which accentuated his swarthy complexion and the jaded jeans which hugged his narrow hips and muscular thighs.  His hair, dark as a raven was slightly tousled.  How she longed to run her fingers through its soft thickness.  Focus, she chided herself.  Don’t get distracted.  She opened the door wider for him to go in.

He was smiling but when he saw her expression, the smile faded.  “What’s the matter?” he asked after she locked the door and turned to face him.  He reached for her but she moved away.

“Let’s go into the living-room,” she suggested and started walking towards it.  He followed her, looking perplexed.  “Before I tell you what’s on my mind, I wanted to thank you for breakfast this morning.”

“Did you enjoy the omelet?”

She nodded.  “Yes, I enjoyed it very much.  You’re an excellent cook.”

“I learned from my mother.  What’s wrong, Nichelle?  You won’t let me touch you and you’re avoiding my gaze.”

She hoped she could get through this without making a fool of herself.  “Luis, are you seeing another woman?” she asked and saw his bewildered look.

He shook his head.  “No, I’m not seeing another woman,” he replied.  “Why would you think that?”

“I-I saw you today having lunch with a beautiful dark-haired woman at the Tapas restaurant.  Who was she?”

He looked thoughtful for a moment and then said, “You’re referring to Consuela.”

“Consuela?  What is she to you?”

He studied her closely now.  “You’re jealous,” he concluded.

She raised her chin, her eyes flashing at him.  “You haven’t answered my question.”

He ran his fingers through his hair, his features relaxed now.  “Consuela is my sister.”

She stared at him, thinking she must be hearing things.  “Your sister?” she repeated.

He nodded.  “Yes.  Consuela is my younger sister.  She invited me to have lunch with her today because it has been a while since we’ve seen each other.”

“When I saw the two of you together, it never occurred to me that she was your sister.  I thought…”

“You thought that I was two-timing you.”

She nodded, her eyes downcast.  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

He reached out and pulled her towards him.  “Nichelle, look at me.”

She raised her eyes to his face and trembled when she saw his expression.

“I thought I had made my feelings for you very clear last night and this morning but I guess I was wrong.  Would you like me to spell them out for you?”

She nodded.

“I love you, Nichelle,” he muttered thickly, his eyes darkening on her upturned face.   “I love you so much.”

Her heart was racing now and her eyes were brimming with tears as they met his.  “I love you too,” she cried and gasped when his mouth covered hers in a passionate kiss.  She put her arms around his neck as he picked her up and carried her to her room where they spent the next several hours.  It was after mid-night when they emerged to enjoy a late but very light dinner which he quickly prepared while she made the salad.  They toasted to their future.

It wasn’t until she took the last sip of the wine when she felt something touch her lips.  Startled, looked into the glass and her eyes widened when she saw what looked like a ring.  She reached in and took it out.  It was an exquisite ring with a heart shaped diamond.  She looked at Luis who was grinning.  “I slipped it in when you weren’t looking,” he said.

She brushed aside the tears.  “It would have served you right if I’d swallowed it,” she scolded him.  She looked at the ring again.  “It’s beautiful.”

“It would look even more beautiful on your hand,” he said and he took it from her.  Getting down on his knee, he took her left hand in his.  “Nichelle, will you marry me?”

She nodded.  “Yes, Luis.”

He slipped the ring on her finger before he raised her hand to his lips.  “You’ve just made me a very happy man,” he murmured softly before he rose to his feet and resumed his seat.  “More wine?”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

True love doesn’t have a happy ending, because true love never ends.

 

 

A Changed Life

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Photo Credit: C.E. Ayr

Ever since I started dating Alan, twenty years my junior, I have changed.  My taste in fashion has gone from flashy to simple.  My ex-husband, Mark wouldn’t recognize me.  I changed my friends too.  I got tired of listening to them go on and on about their husbands and their paramours.  Instead of putting up with it, why not divorce them, I always asked and the answer was always the same.  Divorce was out of the question because it would mean giving up their comfortable lifestyles.

Yes, meeting Alan was the best thing that has ever happened to me.  We met, believe it or not, at a jiu-jitsu class.  Why jiu-jitsu?  Well, it teaches me to love my body for what it can do rather than for what it looks like.  Taking these classes have erased all my negative body image hang-ups by showing me all the awesome things my forty-something body can do.

Alan and I hit it off immediately and I was thrilled when he asked for my number.  The next evening, we went for dinner.

Today, we are cycling.  He’s a bit ahead of me but that’s okay.  I’m keeping up.  And I feel great!

 

198 Words

This was written for Sunday Photo Fiction.  For more details visit Here.  To read more of the stories for this week’s prompt, visit Here.

Sources:  Women’s Health; Jiu Jitsu Times

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