Berta’s Lot

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Berta sat down, dog tired.  Tears ran down her cheeks.  She brushed them away.

What had she done to be saddled with a life of hardship and misery and an ungrateful child?  Hurt and anger welled up inside her as she thought about her only daughter, Clarissa.  She, Berta had worked so hard to make sure that Clarissa went to a good Negro school where she’d meet a fine Negro man and what does she do?  She runs off with an Injun.  All that money wasted and all that hard work for nothing.

Slowly, she rose to finish the ironing.

100 Words

This was inspired by the movie, Unbowed.

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.

The Artist

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He’s a brilliant man and artist whose mercurial temperament has left him with very few friends.  I’m the only one who puts up with his moods.  Call it love or call it madness.  I can’t tell the difference.

38 Words

This is for the Weekend Writing Prompt by Sammi Cox. For instructions, click Here.

Waiting/Yearning #writephoto

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Photo by Sue Vincent

I drift from memory to another, yearning for you.  Why did it have to end?  I thought we were so happy.

You said that you loved being with me.  Being in my arms was where you longed to be.  You said it made you feel safe.  My kisses warmed your heart.

My love was like a thick blanket you wrapped yourself in.  I thought we had something really special.  Why did it have to end?

You and me, it was sheer magic.  We were two souls knit together.  I thought we would last forever.  Why did it have to end?

The darkest day of my life was when you told me that it was over.  I felt as if my heart had been ripped out.  There were tears in your eyes as you explained that you wanted to give your marriage another chance.  I watched you walk out of my life.

I hate that you’re back with your husband.  What kind of man is he?  Is he anything like me?  Does he bring you breakfast in bed?  Does he dry your hair after you shower?  Does he cover you with kisses or buy you gifts?  Does he hang upon your every word?  Does he know your dreams, the desires of your heart?  Does he really know you?  Does he even love you?

I think about you everyday, hoping that you would leave him and come back to me.  I’m waiting for you to walk through that door.  I’m a patient man.  I will wait forever if I have to.

 

This was written for two prompts, the first is the #writephoto Prompt – Yearning at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.  The second is the Ragtag Daily Prompt for today’s prompt, Drift.  If you’re interested in participating, click HERE for more information.

Two Ships

Herieth-Paul2Ife saw him waiting for the elevator.  She tried not to make it obvious that she was watching him as she pushed the cart down the hallway.  She knew he was in no. 406, the Royal suite.  He was very handsome and a sharp dresser.  He must be rich, she thought.  This was a 5-star hotel he was staying in.

He was looking straight ahead and appeared to be in deep thought.  He didn’t notice her and when the elevator doors opened, he went inside.  After they closed behind him, she continued down the hallway to the different suites she still had to clean.  When she got to his, she looked around.  It was in impeccable order.  The bed looked like it hadn’t been slept in.  Out of all the suites on this floor, his was the one she didn’t mind cleaning.

As she got to work, she wondered how long he was staying in Kampala this time.  The last time it was for two weeks and the time before that, three.  He wasn’t the first Japanese businessman she had seen in the hotel or in Kampala.  More and more Japanese were flocking to the city to live, holiday or set up businesses.  Was he planning to live here or to set up a business?  What about his family?  Did he have a wife and children?  He looked young–in his mid to late thirties.

Well, it was none of her business.  A man like him would not be interested in her–a single mother working as a maid in a fancy hotel and living in a run-down neighborhood.  And they were from different cultures.  No, she would be better off finding and marrying a decent Ugandan man who wouldn’t mind being a step-father to her daughter.

Toshiro leaned against the tree, looking up at the hotel.  She was probably in his suite 62_ac32e335-d1d8-4e7c-bffa-e98b58858fd7now.  He knew that she was watching him as he waited for the elevator.  He could feel her eyes on him.  He appeared not to have noticed or acknowledged her but he had.   The temptation to look at her was very strong but he resisted.  She could be married for all he knew and he was in a relationship.

To be honest, he was staying at this hotel because of her.  The first time he saw her was last year when they passed each other in the hallway.   Their eyes met and held for a long time before she lowered hers.   Since then, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her or wanting to see her again.  Perhaps, one of these days, he would say hello to her.  There was no harm in that, was there?

Just then a taxi pulled up in front of the hotel’s entrance.  He glanced at his watch.  It was time to go to the meeting.  Moving away from the tree, he hurried over to the taxi and climbed.   As it drove off, he glanced up at the fourth floor.  Hopefully, he would see her again tomorrow.

This is a prequel to Ife’s Toilet Crisis.

Chalise

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I’ve tried to get every single memory of you out of my mind but it is like trying not to breathe.  You are all I think about.  Yours is the only face I see or want to see.  You are my past but I still want you to be my present and my future.  This is bloody pathetic, isn’t it?  I have an incredible woman in my life and I’m still hung up on you.

How is this fair to Vanessa?  She’s such a beautiful and amazing woman.  We met two years after you and I broke up.  I wasn’t looking for anything.  The last thing I wanted was to get into another relationship because I was such a wreck.

Before Vanessa, I tried to forget you with other women but that didn’t work.  I tried getting loaded but that didn’t work either and I’ve seen what alcohol did to my father.  I didn’t want to end up like him.  I traveled all over the place, trying to lose myself in the different cultures but that didn’t work either.  No matter what I did, I couldn’t wipe you, your face, your voice, your smell and the feel of you out of my memory.

Then, I met Vanessa and at first, being with her made me feel like a condemned prisoner who had just been pardoned.  For a while, she helped me to forget but then, I heard it–our song.  The song that we used to like to play in the background whenever we made love.  Hearing it again after all that time brought back memories I would rather forget and a longing that I had managed to suppress.  Everything began to unravel and I found myself thinking about you again and longing to be with you.  Vanessa could no longer save me from you or myself.  How can I look her in the face and tell her that I don’t love her?  That I never did?  That I had fooled her and myself into thinking that I did?

I have to face the truth.  I’m still in love with you and I will love you until the day I die.  If you were to tell me now that you want to get back together with me, I would dump Vanessa in a heartbeat.  I know that you’re not dating anyone.  I ask our friends about you.  I can tell that they feel sorry for me.  They think I’m pathetic but I don’t care.  I’m relieved that you’re not dating anyone.  The mere thought of you with another man makes me crazy.   You belong to me, Chalise, just as I belong to you.  Just say the word, and I will come running.  We belong together.  We can make it work this time.  Just say the word.

I just got your text.  My heart is racing.  You want us to hook up this evening at your 725EF-7B72-2D47-7D11-2457E4FE899Aplace.  I can’t wait to see you, Chalise.  My arms ache to hold you and my body yearns to feel yours against it.   I know I’m being a bloody fool but I can’t help it.  Love does crazy things to people and I’m no exception.

I’m supposed to see Vanessa later but I’ll tell her that something urgent came up and I’ll see her tomorrow.  Tomorrow I will break up with her.  She deserves to be with a man who loves her and not me, a man who’s hung up on his ex.  I hope that after this evening, you won’t be my ex anymore but my woman again.    I believe that if two people are meant to be together, eventually they will find their way back to each other.  That’s you and me, Babe.

 

This was written for the Ragtag Daily Prompt for today’s prompt, Memory.  If you’re interested in participating, click HERE for more information.

Source:  Heartfelt Quotes

 

 

A Familiar Face

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After losing her fiance, Boris in a horrific car accident, Claire packed up and left Montreal and moved to Paris when her company opened a new office there.  It took a while but she soon settled into her new life and immersed herself in the Parisian culture.  On the weekends, she went sightseeing and to museums and art galleries.  It wasn’t long before she fell in love with the city.

One Saturday, she was standing in the Place de Furstemberg when she felt someone staring at her.  She glanced up from the guidebook and her eyes met those of a very fine looking black man.  He looked familiar.  She was sure that she had seen him somewhere before but couldn’t remember where.

As they continued to stare at each other, a slight smile tugged at his perfect looking mouth.  She felt her heart flutter.  That never happened to her before–not even with Boris.

A man with his looks couldn’t be unattached, could he?  Several women threw admiring glances his way as they walked by but he was oblivious to them. She was flattered and flustered at the same time.  Dressed in a yellow tee shirt and denim Capri pants and her hair pulled back in a ponytail, she didn’t think she looked all that but he was just staring at her as if she were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.  She wasn’t sure what to do.  It feel a bit awkward just standing there locking eyes with a perfect stranger albeit a drop dead gorgeous one.  Part of her felt guilty for being attracted to another man but it had been three years since Boris died.   Boris, sweet guy that he was, would want her to move on with her life and be happy again.  Francois Angoston3

Okay, I getting ahead of myself, she thought.  For all I know this guy may be married and is looking for a summer fling.  Maybe I should just turn right around and walk away with my pride still intact.

Perhaps he had read her thoughts or her body language but the next thing she knew he was walking over to her.  She watched him get closer, trying to appear calm when she was anything but.  He had a graceful, unhurried walk and the denim jacket, white vest and jeans looked good on him.  It was then that she remembered where she had seen him before.  It was in a double page spread in the January issue of Vogue.   He was a model.  If anyone had told her that she would meet him in person…He was standing in front of her now and holding out his hand, he smiled.  “Laurent Baptiste.”

She shook his hand.  “Salomé Leblanc.  I saw your two page spread in Vogue.”

“Yes.  I’m in Paris for Fashion Week.”

“Are you from Martinique?”

“Yes.  Saint-Pierre.  Don’t tell me you’re from Martinique too.”

She laughed.  “As a matter of fact, I am.  I’m from Fort-de-France.”

“Are you here on holiday?”

“No.  I live here.  I moved here about five years ago.  I left Fort-de-France after I graduated from university and moved to Montreal, Canada.”

“Do you mind if we continued this conversation over lunch?”

“No, I don’t mind at all.  It isn’t every day that I bump into someone from Martinique.”

He smiled making her breath quicken.  “Let’s go.”

Over Roasted rack of lamb and Home made duck confit, they got to know each other better.  Before they parted company, she had an invitation to the Fashion Show he had mentioned earlier followed by dinner for two at Le Jules Verne restaurant at the top of the Eiffel Tower.

 

Source:  The Culture Trip

The Man on the Beach

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After a swim in the ocean, she scrambled onto the beach where she found him. He was lying underneath the beam.  Who was he?  Where did he come from?  Cautiously, she went over and examined him closely.  He was unconscious and bleeding.

She ran back to where her clothes lay and hurriedly got dressed then dashed off the school.  She burst into Miss Williams’ office.  “There’s wounded man on the beach,” she blurted out before the older woman could say anything.

“Careful, Miss,” one of the men warned as the headmistress approached the body.

She gasped.  “It’s my brother, Charles.”

 

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.

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