Devastating News

from-renee-heath

PHOTO PROMPT © Renee Heath

“I’m devastated to hear about Douglas and you,” Liz said to Ronda as they sat outside of Liz’s home.  Everyone else had gone to the baseball game.

Ronda held back the tears.  “After fifteen years of marriage, we’re getting divorced.  Who would have expected that?”

Liz squeezed her hand.  “I can’t imagine how you must be feeling.”

“Right now I’d like to kill them.”

“Do you know who she is?”

Ronda wanted to scream, it’s your bloody daughter!  She’d seen them going into the tepee one evening.  “No,” she lied.

“Well, whoever she is, I hope she burns in Hell.”

 

100 Words

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

No More

photo-20180910153513058

She rubbed the condensation from the window and looked out.  It was an overcast day, perfect for what she planned to do.

Today was going to be the last day of her pathetic life.  No more bullying at school.  No more self-recrimination and self-hate.  No more pain.  No more love.  Love–it was what Josh, her half-brother called it when they were doing it in her room or his while everyone else was sleeping or out.  She called it wrong because the Bible said that it was sinful for blood relatives to have relations with each other.  Yet, even though it made her feel dirty, she continued to let Josh “love” her because it was better than feeling rejected or neglected.  For two years, she believed that love, even the wrong kind was better than none, but not today.  Today, she was going to be free of it.

They found her dead, an empty pill bottle on the bed beside her.  She was only seventeen.  A week later, nineteen year old Josh took his life.

174 Words

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

The Best Feeling

When they met she was in a fashion show,

dressed in a spotted fur Coat and a crown

of flower jewelry around her head.  She

was doing it as a favor to a friend in the

fashion business in support of a girl’s

right to education in Africa.

 

He was there sitting in front and when

she strutted down the runway, he took

notice.  Their eyes met and held for

several minutes before she turned

and walked off.  After the show, her

friend introduced them.  It turned out

that he was Rémy Vasseur, the name

behind Vasseur wineries.  He was a

household name in Provence where

his vineyard was situated.  He owned

a chateau there as well as in Nice.

 

He was a very attractive and charming

man in his early fifties.  Widowed with

a twenty-something daughter, he had

not shown any interest in dating until

now.  Without wasting any time, he

invited Marcelle to lunch.  Flattered

and completely enamored of him,

she readily accepted.  He took her

to an expensive but cozy restaurant

and over a gourmet lunch, they got

to know each other.

 

She enjoyed his company so much

that when he asked to see her

again, she agreed.  So, lunch that

day led to more lunches and dinners.

Then, they took impromptu trips to

Rome, Barcelona, Athens, Montenegro and

Turks and Caicos.  They stayed in

separate rooms and so far, he hadn’t

kissed her or made any advances.

 

Things were moving at a

comfortable rather than a rapid

pace which suited her.  They went for

walks after dinner, sightseeing and

dancing.  By the time he took her to

his chateau in Provence, she was in

love with him.

 

What she loved about him was that he

didn’t flaunt his wealth.  It was just a

part of him and he carried it with such

humility, always mindful of those who

were not as fortunate as he and loved

to give to charities.  He was deeply

religious too and always credited God

for his wealth and good fortune.

 

It was when they were sitting on the

stone bench in front of the fountain

that he proposed to her.  Her eyes

almost popped out of her head when

he got down on his knee in front of

her and opened a little black box.

He took out the most exquisite

ring she had ever seen.

 

His eyes met hers in a steady gaze as

he said, “Marcelle, I never thought that

I would fall in love again until I met you.

When I first saw you I felt as if time and

my heart stood still.  I had to meet you

and when I did, I had to get to know you.

These past months that we have been

together have been the happiest for me

but they’re not enough.  I want to spend

the rest of my life with you.  Will you

marry me?”

 

“Yes,” she cried and watched through

her tears as he put the ring on her finger.

 

He stood up and pulled her to her feet.

“I love you,” he whispered as he put his

arms around her waist and drew her

closer to him so that their bodies were

touching.

 

She smiled up at him, his face blurry.

“I love you too,” she murmured and

watched in anticipation as he bent

his head, her heart thudding.  They

were about to kiss for the first time.

As their lips touched, she thought,

The best feeling in the world is kissing

someone for the first time when you’ve

really wanted to kiss them for a long time.

Source:  Pinterest

A Model Moment

She stood there watching as the evening unfurled, a solitary figure in a room filled with people from the fashion and business world.  She was there by invitation from her friend, a fashion photographer.  She felt so out of place.  She wasn’t used to be around such glamorous people.  Several people thought she was a model.  A few photographers snapped her photo, much to her chagrin.  It reminded her of the time when she had to recite a poem in front of her classmates.  She managed to get through it but it was nerve-racking.

She wasn’t one for socializing and at the first opportunity, she slipped out and escaped to the brightly lit garden.  It was a beautiful evening.  A slight breeze blew, gently rustling the trees.  It was early summer when the weather was comfortable.

She had no idea of how long she would stay outside but for now it was where she felt most comfortable.  She slowly walked along the path, her gaze sweeping over the sprawling grounds and in the background, she could hear peals of laughter and the clinking of glasses. She paused at the rose bush.  Unable to resist, she leaned over and breathed in the sweet fragrance.

“Good evening.”

The voice startled her and she swung round.  A tall figure approached her.  As he drew nearer, she recognized him from the photos her friend had taken and which were featured in the Spring issue of GQ.  Her heart began to beat fast and she wondered what she could say to him.  “Good evening,” she replied.

He smiled as he held out his hand.  “Adrian Barlow.”

She shook his hand.  “Simone Jackson.”

“I see you had the same idea,” he remarked.  “Getting away from the crowd, I mean.”

“Yes,” she looked away, feeling self-conscious because of his penetrating stare.

“I hope you don’t mind me joining you, Simone.”

She shook her head.  “No, I don’t mind.”

“Shall we take a walk?”

She nodded.  And they walked along the path.

“Are you a model?” he asked.

She shook her head.  “No.  I’m the Assistant Art Director of a children’s publisher.”

“Do you like what you do?”

“Yes.  I like my job very much.  As a child, I loved to read.  I still do.  I know that you are a model.  I have seen your photos in GQ.  Do you like modelling?”

He shrugged.  “It’s something I do when I am not too busy.  I don’t see myself doing it for much longer.  I have my own business which I enjoy running.”

“You know my friend, Erin.  She’s the reason why I am here tonight.”

“I saw when you arrived and watched you all evening, waiting for an opportunity to speak to you.  I saw you slip out and followed.  You really are quite beautiful, you know.”

She didn’t know what to say.  It wasn’t often that she had a gorgeous man tell her that she was beautiful.  They had come upon a fountain.  There was a bench nearby and she went toward it.  She sat down and he sat beside her, turning so that he was facing her.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you just now,” he said.   “Surely I’m not the first man to pay you such a compliment.”

“No, you aren’t the first but you have been around so many beautiful women.”

“Yes, I have,” he acknowledged.  “But none of them hold a candle to you.  Have dinner with me tomorrow evening, Simone.”

She stared at him and saw that he was very serious.  His amazing eyes were unwavering as they met her startled ones.  “Dinner with you,” she repeated, somewhat dazed.  This moment was almost surreal.

“Yes, unless you have other plans.”

“No, no.  I don’t have any other plans.”

“Then, you will have dinner with me?”

“Yes.”

She gave him her address which he scribbled on the back of a business card and placed in his breast pocket.

They sat there a while longer, talking.  She found herself becoming very relaxed with him and opening up.  Then they heard the sound of cars leaving and realized that it was time to go.  Reluctantly, she got up from the bench.  “Do you have a ride home?” he asked.

“Yes, I will get a ride with Erin.”

They headed back to the mansion and stopped at the foot of the steps where they were to part company.  “I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow,” he told her before he took her hand and raised it to his lips.  His eyes held hers as he kissed it.  Her heart was pounding and her skin tingled. “Good night, Simone,” he said softly when he raised his head.

“Good night, Adrian.”

He released her hand and walked away.  Just then Erin joined her.  “I was wondering where you had gone off to,” she said, watching Adrian go.  “I see that you were in good company.”

Simone smiled.  “Thanks for inviting me tonight, Erin.  I had a wonderful time.”

“I can see that,” her friend teased before she took her arm and they headed to her car.

Source:  The Guardian Jobs

The Truth

“What are you doing?” she asked him, agitated.

 

“I am going to turn the pages for you,” he said.

 

She was sitting at the piano about to play something

while her aunt and her visitors were sitting in the drawing-

room having tea.  “I can manage,” she told him.

 

“Please, Helen.  I haven’t been alone with you for

days and you have been avoiding me.”

 

“Have I?” she began to play and for the next

few moments, no words were exchanged

between them.  He turned the pages, his eyes

never leaving her face.  How she managed to

concentrate with him being so near, she had

no idea.

 

The last note she struck was accompanied

by applause and compliments on her playing

and then the conversation resumed.

“You know you have been avoiding me,” he

insisted.  “Why, Helen?”

 

She looked at him in frustration.  “You know

why, Jonathan.”

 

“All I know is that we love each other and

avoiding me isn’t going to change that.”

 

“Please don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.”

 

“We’re not supposed to love each other.”

“But we do.  Come for a walk with me.  I

need to be alone with you.”

 

“I can’t.  I’m–I’m not feeling well.”  She

did feel a little warm.

 

“Liar” he interjected.  He reached in his

breast pocket and took out a folded

sheet of paper.  He slipped it over to

her.

 

She stared at it, not taking it up.  “What

is it?”

 

“A poem.”

 

“Another one?  Jonathan, you have to

stop writing me poems and letters.”

She had them hidden away in her

drawer and at night before she went

to bed, she read them, even though

it tortured her to do so.

 

“It captures the feelings that I want

so badly to express.  I will leave you

now.  If you change your mind, I will

be in the gazebo.  It promises to be a

beautiful night.”  He walked away.

 

She sat there for a while, staring

at the sheet of paper and then she

picked it up, her fingers trembling.

She slowly unfolded it and read

the bold letters scrawled across

the lines.  Her heart breaking as

she read the words.  She pressed

the page against her chest and

closed her eyes.

 

“Are you all right?” the sound of

her aunt’s voice jolted her and

she got up hastily from the piano,

the sheet of paper slipped from her

fingers and fell on the carpet.

 

“I have a headache,” she said, “Please

excuse me, Aunt Cora.”

 

“Wait,” her aunt called, frowning, but

Helen had left the room.  Aunt Cora stood

there for a moment, pensive and then

she bent down and picked up the paper

which Helen had dropped.  She glanced at

it and then she folded it and slipped it into her pocket.

 

The clock struck eleven.  Helen sat by the window, looking

out of the window.  It was a beautiful night.  The moon cast its

light on the courtyard below.  Was he still out there in the

gazebo or had he retired?  What was he doing?

Should she have gone for the walk?  She knew why

she didn’t dare be alone with him.  The last time they

were alone together, they almost got carried away.

She had to practically run away.  After that she

vowed never to be alone with him again.

 

A knock on the door brought her out of her

reverie.  She turned to see her aunt in the

doorway.  “Aunt Cora.” She moved away from

the window.

 

“I hope I am not disturbing you, Dear.”

Helen shook her head.  “No, you’re not.  I

couldn’t sleep.  I have been sitting at the

window watching the moon.”

 

“I have something that belongs to you.”  She

handed Helen the poem.

 

Helen blushed as she took it, feeling embarrassed.

 

Aunt Cora motioned for them to sit by

the window.  “I think it’s about time that

I told you the truth about your father,”

she said.

 

Helen was startled.  “My father?”

 

“Yes.  My brother John was not your

father, Helen.  Your real father was

a close friend of John’s.  Your mother

died in childbirth and your father

raised you.  When you were three

he died in a riding accident.  When

John learned this unfortunate news

he brought you home as you had no

other living relatives.  He raised you

as his own daughter and he adored

you.  You were his life.”

 

Helen was crying now.  “I adored

him too,” she said.  “I miss him.  There’s so

much I want to talk to him about.”

 

Aunt Cora patted her hands.  “Yes, I imagine there is.”

 

“What were my parents like?”

 

“They were very good people.  I met your

father.  He was a delightful man.  He

doted on you.”

 

There was a pregnant pause as Helen tried

to digest the news she had just received.  “So

this means that Jonathan and I aren’t cousins.”

 

Aunt Cora nodded.  “That’s right.  And that’s why

I had to tell you the truth about your background.

I had noticed the way you and my son behaved

around each other.  And seeing you together

tonight convinced me that you are in love with

each other.  So, my Dear, there’s nothing to stop

you and he from being together.”

 

“Are you going to tell him?”

 

Aunt Cora shook her head.  “I will leave you to it.”

 

“Do I still call you Aunt Cora?”

 

“Oh yes, you do.”  The older woman hugged

her tightly.  “Now, try to get some sleep.”

 

Helen smiled, “Goodnight, Aunt Cora.”

 

“Goodnight, Dear.”

 

Helen turned to look out the window.  The

truth about her parentage turned out

to be her greatest blessing.  Now she and

Jonathan were free to love each other

without feeling guilty and ashamed.  Tomorrow

she would tell him.  Tomorrow couldn’t come

soon enough.

 

Girl on piano