Numb

            He flinched as another car drove past. It had become a habit every time he heard an engine approach. Standing frozen for a moment, he could barely feel the cascade of frigid water collide with his chilled skin. Rain had been pouring for several hours, which had quickly drenched him. Numb and completely dazed, he let his feet lead him. His destination didn’t matter; it was just somewhere far away.

            Another car passed, this one sending a large wave in its wake. Observing the red lights as they disappeared around a corner, he kept walking. This road was familiar, a distant memory he couldn’t quite reach. The last time he’d been this way was thirteen years ago. Now, here he was searching for comfort in a town he had called home in a life he vacated after tragedy.

            Roaming up a grassy hill, he slipped a few times, mud adding to his already disheveled state. Pausing as the rain continued, he skimmed the stones. The grave markers were older, showing their age by the amount of moss each was caked in. Finally he spied the double-wide headstone; the only one that he wasn’t sure how he missed it upon first glance.

            Passing among the other plots, he paused at the one he recognized. Reaching out a tentative hand, he traced the names, his fingers easily slipping into the engraved letters. He missed them, even now that his old life was but distant memories.

New Morning

            They sprinted across the sand; strewn shoes and socks left in their wake. The shore had yet to see sunlight. All they had to light their way were the beams from the coupe parked at the top of a dune. Laughing as they watched the waves crash on the beach, they stopped just beyond its reach.

            It tasted of salt, unmistakable being this close to the ocean. Hours had passed since they had left home. They wanted to see the ocean. The roar from the water greeted them, congratulating the group of their journey. No one had yet to set a toe into the vast liquid before them. Daring each other, they paused, trying to decide who would be brave enough to test its temperature.

            Shivering slightly at the wind, one took a step forward, leaving behind the slight warmth of the dry sand. A chill went up her spine as her bare feet moved towards the ebbing waves. Cold washed over her feet, she yelped in surprise. Others joined her, equally startled by the frigid water. Chuckling together, they wandered back up the beach to pause.

            The horizon’s edge slowly revealed a sliver of light, the colors going from black to blues. Finally, the sun was welcoming them; commending them on the accomplishment of the previous night. This was the start of an adventure. A new morning at what felt like the edge of the world.

Rivulets

 A potential for April's Flash Party theme of "The Long Drive." Yeah, it's early, and it feels early. Hahahaha. But please enjoy, even though I have no idea where they were headed.

Rivulets

            He curled into the front seat, eyes watching the rivulets of rain descend the smooth glass. Glancing to his Aunt, he could see her focus as she drove. It had been hours since they spoke. The radio had long been turned off—a lack of good news and reception.

            There hadn’t been a plan on the destination. She hauled him from his bed and forced him in the car. It had been the wee hours of the morning; birds had yet to sing their greetings to the sun and most hadn’t left for work. Virtually everything they owned had been left behind. Some boxes were on the backseat, but their contents were unknown to him. His only companion, Tosha, sprawled across a blanket on the floor.

            “I could drive too,” he offered, breaking the silence. Studying his Aunt, she continued with her eyes on the road.

            “You’ve no idea what to do,” she murmured. “More dangers lurkin’ about.”

            “If you tell me where we’re goin’ I could—“

            “Drivin’ straights all you need knowin’. You’ll be safe soon.” The roar of the engine filled the silence. Shifting in the seat, his eyes returned to stare out at the brooding clouds.

Tangy

            It smelled like mustard. That tangy aroma made his mouth water. With a glance at the grill, he could see the dogs were almost finished. Sighing, he looked to the sand. People were enjoying themselves down by the waves. He not so much.

            Hugging his knees, he inched away from the edge of the canopy. The sun was crawling closer by the hour, and he didn’t want to feel its heat. Hearing a laugh, he looked to see that smirk Summer always had. Amusement. He was surely amused by Winter’s attempts to stay in the shade. Seeing Summer shake his head, Winter frowned, pushing his glasses up.

            With his chin resting on his knees, he glanced at where Fall and Spring were lounged on beach chairs. They seemed to be enjoying themselves. Frowning, he looked up as a plate was held before his face. Summer passed off the hot dog and resumed his grilling.

Damp Shoes

    Perhaps another submission to Flash Party, I'm not sure. I'll probably wait another week before I end up writing something else, or using either "Echoes" or "Damp Shoes." 

Damp Shoes-      

            It smelled of mold; damp shoes and soaked polyester jackets. To most it wasn’t a pleasant aroma. But it only took a few minutes of sitting in the enclosed space before it wasn’t there. In fact, it started to smell more like sour acid from the pages of his sketch book. The scent reminded him of pickles.

            His mouth was open, tongue barely visible as his pencil slid across the page. He liked drawing in here; his closet away from the yelling of family, of school, of life. In here, he could focus on himself and think. This space was just what he needed after draining phone calls and long study sessions with him.

            No matter how hard he tried, he always got caught staring. Whether it was at his lips, or the way his hair fell across his brow. A smirk would appear on his face, and that’s where it’d all start. He’d melt at the sight and yearn to be close to him; finally their skin would touch.

            In the back of his mind, he knew he didn’t see him the same; that he was just a warm body. There was never that glint of affection in his eyes. It was pure need.

Waves

 Something short I wrote some time ago. I gave it a quick edit/revision. But this was a piece I really liked but have no idea what to do with.      

Waves

            I watched my dork of a husband flounder in the waves. He was trying to catch one to surf, but he wasn’t having much luck. After inquiring one of the locals to teach him, he couldn’t help going one last time before we returned home. Finally catching a wave, he rode it for some time before flipping over. James floated in, laughing at himself.

            Picking up the board, he made his way back to me.  He returned the surf board to the surfer before flopping down in the sand next to my towel. I tried to restrain and hold in my laughter, but I couldn’t help it.

            “Laughing at me, are you?” he grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. I lay back, giggling. “Well for your information I hit my head on that last stunt,” he pouted.

            “Aww, poor baby. Does he need me to kiss it?” I teased, sitting up. I leaned against him, sighing in content. I felt his nose press against my scalp; burning my scent to memory.

            “By this time tomorrow we’ll be back home,” he murmured as we watched the waves batter the sand.

Echoes

With Flash fiction on my mind, I figure these drabbles I write over the course of a month could go somewhere. And obviously this being my writing blog, it's the perfect place. 

I keep a small notebook with me while I'm at work. It has notes, drabbles, and sections of other stories scrawled across the pages. Some of the things are just random, and scribbled down while I digest my pb sandwich with CNN playing in the background mixed in the murmur of the break room. Ironically, the cover of this notebook is a snowy meadow. I've had it for years, but never had an interest in writing in it until this past December once WriMo was over.

But with all the random things I've written, I should finally share some of the short (short) fiction to others to get feedback--granted I'm not the best at giving feedback either, so I can understand the trepidation at giving criticism (or perhaps constructive cricticism/corrective feedback for those wanting a more positive title).

Plus, whatever isn't submitted to Flash Party can go here, right? Anyway, my current drabble for March's theme of "hiding place."


Echoes-


               My ears picked up on the sound of her giggle. I had to be close. This game had gone on long enough. Tugging open a cabinet, I found it stuffed of boxes; the closet was too cluttered with coats. Searching various locations, I still couldn't find her.
               "Ruby!" I called. Silence. A few more tentative steps, and I heard it; the echo of her laughter. My shoes scuffed on the rough cement floor as I crossed the garage. She sneezed, the sound coming from across the room. 
               I had searched; no box was left unopened. Exasperated, I stalked to the door. Click. My eyes roamed the now darkened space. Finally I spied her.