Busted

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PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

He sat in the unmarked car, watching and waiting.  He suspected that she was cheating on him.  Tonight his shift ended early so he drove over.  A red corvette was parked outside.  Last night it was a Fiat.  An hour later, he saw the guy leave.  He turned to open his car door, when he saw a Lamborghini pull up.  Then it dawned on him.  She was turning tricks again.

He reached for his gun.  Don’t do it. She isn’t worth it.  He moved his hand away and made the call.  Dawn arrived the same time as backup did.

99 Words

 

This was written as part of the Friday Fictioneers challenge.  For more details visit Here. To read more stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.

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Daraja’s New Life

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Daraja loved this small Italian coastal town, surrounded by the Tyrrhenian Sea.  It was nothing like her home, Sokoto, Nigeria’s poorest village.

Four years ago, at age 16, she had to quit school when her widowed father died.  Her older brother worked as a mechanic while she sold bread and water.  Then, a neighbor told her about a friend who could help her to find a job in Italy.

Unfortunately, that friend turned out to be a “connection man”.  Daraja was held in a warehouse outside of Tripoli and forced into prostitution.  Months later, she was taken to Garaboli to wait for the boat to Italy.  Once in Sicily, she didn’t call her madam, but went to a local humanitarian NGO where she met Gaetano, a wonderful man, twice her age.

Initially, he was fatherly towards her but then they fell in love.  She patted her stomach.  Their second child was on the way.

She saw Gaetano and their son, Alessandro coming up the road.  She waved.  Gaetano waved back but Alessandro ran towards her.

 

175 Words

This story is based on true stories of young Nigerian girls who are forced into prostitution.  They are taken to Libya where they take a rubber boat to Italy where they are to call their madam at the mobile number their “connection man” gave them.

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

 

Sources:  Earth Porm; News Deeply; Ventures Africa

Nils

She stood there, smiling and trying to act like she was interested in what the guy in the green shirt was saying when he walked by.  Their eyes met and she caught the tantalizing scent of his aftershave.  She had noticed him the moment he entered the room.  His spiky blond hair, strong, square jawline, piercing blue eyes, flaring nostrils and amazing looking lips made her head spin.  Underneath the navy blue silk shirt she could see his bulging muscles and body.  He looked away and her eyes followed him to see where he was going.  She saw him head over to the bar and sit down on one of the stools, leaning over and resting those massive arms on the counter.

She turned to the guy in the green shirt who hadn’t missed a beat  and was still talking about the latest in technology and smiling sweetly, she said, “Excuse me, I just spotted someone I know.”  She walked away.

She headed straight for the bar, her heart beating faster with each step.  She went and stood right next to him.  When she turned her head, he was looking at her and she could see from the expression on his face that he liked what he saw.  She knew she looked good in the off the shoulder black dress.  This close, he was even more devastating and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath.  Her stomach was doing bizarre things.  “Where’s the guy I saw you with?” he asked.

“I ditched him,” she admitted and saw his eyebrows arch.  “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.  He seemed like a nice guy but I just wasn’t interested and rather than stringing him along, I excused myself and here I am.”

“His loss,” he remarked.  “May I buy you a drink?”

“Sure.  What are you having?”

“A Blood Orange Punch.”

“Hmmm.  Sounds interesting.  Does it have alcohol in it, though?”

He shook his head.  “No.”

She slid onto the stool beside.  “I’ll have one, then.  Thank you.”

After he ordered the drinks, he held out his hand.  “Nils.”

“Corinne.”  When their fingers touched, she felt a spark that rendered her a little breathless.  She was happy to note that he wasn’t wearing a wedding band.  “Nils.  That’s a Swedish name, isn’t it?”

He nodded with a smile.  “Yes.  I was born in Sweden but moved here with my parents when I was five.  What about you?”

“My parents are from Nigeria but I was born here.”

“You know you’re easily the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting?”

She lowered her eyes, feeling self-conscious.  “And you’re the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.”

His eyes darkened.  “After we’re done here, I’d like to take you back to my place and…”

She laughed, her pulse racing as their eyes met.  “Do you usually work this fast?” she asked.

He shook his head.  “No, not usually but then I never met a woman like you before.  While I’m sitting here talking to you, all I can think about is how good you would look in my bed.”

“All right. Let’s finish our drinks and then leave.” She had never done this before and it was both terrifying and thrilling.

They talked some more as they drank the Blood Orange Punch.  As soon as both glasses were empty, they bade Michelle, their hostess, goodnight and left.  Michelle watched them go, a smile on her face.  Good for you, Corinne, she thought to herself.

A short ride in his Ferrari brought them to his flat which overlooked the Thames River.  As soon as he closed the door and locked it, she was in his arms and his lips were ravaging hers.  Her arms wrapped themselves around his neck as she responded wildly to his kisses.  And then, he swept her off her feet and carried her to his bedroom.

The next morning when she came out of the bathroom, he was lying on his stomach, completely uncovered and she felt her body respond.  “I should go,” she said, although she didn’t want to.

“Stay and have breakfast with me,” he suggested.

“All right.”  Her heart lurched when he climbed out of the bed and walked over to her.

“Let’s make it a late breakfast,” he murmured as he pulled her into his arms.

They ended up having a very late breakfast and many more breakfasts after that.  In a couple of months, they were engaged and then in the following Spring they got married.  Michelle was her maid of honor.

Corinne never imagined that when she went to Michelle’s launch party, she would meet her soulmate.  A smile touched her lips as she remembered the quote,When your eyes met mine, my soul pointed at you and whispered to my heart, “Him..”  Yes, Nils was definitely her soulmate.  She squealed now as he picked her up and ran towards the foamy waters as they licked the white sandy beach of Bora Bora.

 

Sources:  BBC Good Food; Best Image Quotes; Quotes ‘nd Notes

Mateo

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Photo Credit: Susan Spaulding

The framed shirt of soccer icon Diego Maradona hanging on the wall was a painful reminder of what happened several weeks ago.  In a parking lot of a bar in Medellín, her fiancé Mateo was gunned down because he scored an own goal which led to his team’s elimination from the World Cup.  Their wedding was to take place later that year.  He was only 25.  In memory of his death, his older brother, Santiago founded the Mateo Garcia Project to help disadvantaged children learn to play soccer.

She sat in a sports bar in New York City, surrounded by soccer fans preparing to watch the match between France and Argentina.  She avoided looking at the television set.

She glanced at her watch.  Santiago should be here any minute.  It was his idea to come here for brunch.

“Sorry, I’m late,” he apologized when he joined her.  “Traffic was heavy.”

“You’re not late,” she said.  “I came five minutes ago.”

“How’re you, Valeria?”

“Mateo Jr. and I are doing fine,” she said, patting her stomach.

Santiago looked regretful.  “His Dad should be here.”

“He is here,” she said, covering her heart.  “Where he will always be.”

 

196 Words

 

This was inspired by the true story of Andres Escobar who lost his life when he scored an own goal in the World Cup 1994 match between Colombia and the United States.  It was written as part of Sunday Photo Fiction.  For more details visit Here.

To read more of the stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.

Source:  Wikipedia

LA

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Photo by Joshua McKnight on Pexels.com

She was coming out of the washroom when she saw him.  It was hot but he looked nice and cool in his suit.  Come to think of it, she didn’t recall ever seeing him perspire.  She hoped he wouldn’t see her because she wasn’t looking her best, dressed in the pink tee shirt, faded jeans, white cap and denim jacket draped around her shoulders.  Her face was shiny and she wasn’t wearing any makeup.  Perhaps, she should slip out the back way.  Too late.  Her heart sank.  He’d seen her.

Trying to appear composed, she watched as he approached her.  He was so gorgeous.  Just the sight of him made her heart race and her knees weak.   Her palms felt sweaty and she rubbed them against the seat of her jeans.

He smiled when he reached her, those incredibly sexy eyes of his intent on her face which felt hot.  “Hello, Yvette,” he said.

“Hello, Zach.”

“So, you’re back from LA.”

“Yes.  I came back on Thursday.”

“That was two days ago.  Why haven’t you called me?”

“I thought you’d be busy and–”

“I’m never too busy for you, Yvette.”

“How-how have you been?”

“Busy but that comes with the job.”  He was the Chief Executive Officer at . So, how did you like LA?”

“It was fun.  Lots to see.”

“I got your postcard.”

“Good.  I’m glad it got here before I did.”

“I missed you.”

She swallowed hard.  “I–I missed you too.”

“Did you meet anyone interesting?”

“Well, I met some celebrities and got their autographs.”

“I meant, did you meet any interesting men?” He looked a bit tense.

She shook her head.  “We went to a nightclub one evening and there were a few who approached me but I wasn’t interested in any of them.”

He relaxed.  “You have no idea how relieved I’m to hear that.  I kept imagining you with some guy and getting jealous.”

Her breath caught in her throat.  “Jealous?”

“Yes.  Yvette, you must know by now that I’m crazy about you.  For the longest time I’ve wanted to tell you but got cold feet every time.  When you went to LA, I promised myself that when I saw you I would tell you how I feel.”

She reached out and took his hand, lacing her fingers through his.  “I had no idea that you felt this way,” she said, her eyes wide as they met his.  “I’ve been into you since the first time we met but I never dreamed that you felt the same way.  And all the time I was in LA, I thought about you, wishing that you were there.”

“Do you have plans for this evening?” he asked.

“No.”  And even if I had, I would cancel them for you.

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

“Where?  What time?”

“David’s Bistro at seven.  I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”

“All right.  I’ll see you at six-thirty.”

He smiled, his eyes caressing her upturned face as he raised her their intertwined fingers and pressed his lips against hers, making her tremble.  “See you later.”  And then, he walked away.

She stood there for several minutes, her mind spinning and her heart racing.  That trip to LA proved to be a turning point in her relationship with Zachary.  It was what had driven him to finally declare his feelings for her.  All this time, he cared for her and she had no clue.  Either he was very good at hiding his feelings or she was really bad at reading the signs.  And now that she thought about it, there had been signs.  Shaking her head, she walked out the cafe and into the sunshine.

One of the best feelings in the world is knowing your presence and absence will mean something to someone – Brain Quotes

 

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Her New God

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Photo by Sue Vincent

She looked at the tree with the scarves, ties and other colorful things draped on the branches and grimaced.  Waste of time.  She saw the items she had put on the tree months ago, believing that the gods would hear her prayers and answer but it was as if they had turned their backs on her.  Her son was still sick.  Nothing worked.  The hospital was too far away and the doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him.  And he was growing worse.

“You haven’t tried Me”.  She looked around, wondering who had said that.  She was alone.  She continued walking, chalking it up to imagination when she heard it again.  “You haven’t tried Me”.

Frightened, she asked, “Who are You?”

“I am the God who created the heavens and the earth.”

The Christian God, she thought.  She had heard about Him.  “I have heard stories about You how You parted the Red Sea and sent bread from Heaven.”

“Yes, and I can also heal the sick.”

She paused and looked up.  “Can You heal my son?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“All you have to do is to pray and believe that I can do it and I will.”

She thought about it for a moment.  What did she have to lose?  Her son was sick and her gods weren’t answering her desperate cries for help.  At least this God was talking to her and He wanted to heal her son.  She got down on her knees and prostrated herself on the ground, hands clasped above her head, eyes squeezed shut.  She began to pray and as she did, the words just poured from her lips, accompanied by gut wrenching tears as she pleaded for her son’s life.

When she was finished, a peace she had never experienced before in her life came over her.  She got up and wiping her face, she trudged the rest of the way to the village.  When she arrived, her sister ran out to greet her, her face bright with joy.  “Saanvi!  It’s Jayesh,” she cried, unable to speak because she was so excited.

Saanvi frowned,  “What about Jayesh?” she asked.

“He’s recovered,” her sister said, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards thehut.   “The fever left him and he’s awake.  He’s asking for you.”

Overjoyed, Saanvi burst into the hut and when she saw Saanvi sitting up in the bed, she fell to the ground and began to thank the Christian God.  “You are now my God,” she said.  “When the other gods ignored my cries for help, You heard and You spoke to me.  You healed my son.  You’re my God now.”

By the end of the week, all traces of the other gods were gone.  In their place was a Bible which she had gotten from a missionary visiting her village.  And as for the Wishing Tree, she had no more use for it.  She removed the items she had placed on the branches and burned them.

This was written in response to the Thursday Photo Prompt – Wishes for Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo. Click on the link to read other stories inspired by the image.

How Were They to Know?

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Copyright Liz Young

 

She sat there, unable to move or speak.  Her face was covered, her hands were strapped.  She was helpless.  People passed by, stopped to gawk at her, remarked on how real the dummy inside the cage looked before walking away.  How were they to know that she was a victim of a sick, twisted mind?  How were they to know that for her it was a nightmare, being locked up like a caged animal at the whim of a depraved human being?

He stood there, savoring their macabre interest.

Her husband, the charming monster.  How were they to know?

99 Words

This was written as part of the Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  For more details, visit Here).  To read more stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.