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.

Blanket Seas

Katie turned me on to this site, which is actually a really fun idea and thing to experience. Flash Party is a really fantastic idea. Taking the flash mob mentality, but applying it to writing and the internet. Make a statement and then be gone. More or less. But doing that in 250 words is where it's at.

I've always liked having word limits. It's a challenge and makes you think about what you want to say; the impact you want to make your words have--whether it's on purpose or by accident. But either way, I like coming up with such short, short stories to challenge myself. And to help you with the 250 words, they do have themes for every month.

February was "heat." So, after reading the submissions, getting my brain into gear, I finally sent in something.

Thanks for turning me on to this awesome way of writing, Katie. Once we get to tour together, we should go crazy with 250 word stories. :]

Blanket Seas -

                They bask on towels, baking in the rays. Her eyes are closed behind her sunglasses, blissfully enjoying the waves lapping at the sands. He sits up, downing some water; feeling its slight chill down his throat as he swallows. Setting the bottle aside, he glances to her, taking in the sight of her skin. Smiling, he continues to let his eyes roam her form; from the curves of her hips to the way her cheeks have some beaded sweat.

                Licking his chapped lips, he thinks back to their sea of blankets. It was morning when he searched for her, their lips meeting and their skin yearning for the other. Together they could dance, but apart, they were clumsy.

                Reaching out a hand, he brushed it past her navel, returning to lay on his towel with a hand resting on her. Her eyes must have opened as she cracked a smile and ran her fingers through his hair. There wasn’t a need for words; just a touch of reassurance. Smirking to himself, he shut his eyes. They could swim again later.

Fall

            The long sunny days were already becoming a distant memory. Harvest season was steadily approaching; bringing with the onslaught of frost. She stood on a hill observing the trees. Some leaves were already starting to change. Soon streets, sidewalks, parking lots, and school grounds would be littered with the leaves. Her eyes wandered to the horizon as the sun started to slip below, leaving the stars and clouds behind. Inhaling deeply, she exhaled slowly; every cloud above shuddered, before starting to pull into a large mass.

            Moments went by before they were at last together. Reaching up, her hand brushed the plume, sending it across the valley. Arms crossed, Fall waited. It took seconds before the clouds blurred and drops began to descend. She stood, protected from the water as it cascaded around her.

            Tonight was simple; only the beginning really. In a matter of days, rivers would flood, thunder would roll, and trees would bend. Her plan was set; it was just time to wait. This weather would not let up anytime soon. Children would have to remain indoors; people would rush with umbrellas or jackets. No one truly appreciated her work. With the destruction she caused, it was no wonder Fall got the feeling people looked forward to Spring and Summer.

            Her fun would arrive soon enough. It was that chilly night children would masquerade and receive candy. Observing the parade was Fall’s favorite activity of her work. A smile graced her façade as she mused of the pumpkins that would adorn stoops.

            Finally moving from her hilltop, she strolled to Winter’s meadow.

Broken Limbs Part III

            In order to win this bet, I had to work fast to save her. The only person that could help me was Melvin, our resident sandman. When I found him, he was lounging about, reading quietly as his work day had ended. We spoke briefly as I retold the event as quickly as possible in order to not waste time. Hearing the story, he stared at me in disbelief. Never had a figment strived to save the life of a mortal. Such a practice or act was unheard of among our tiny population.

            We agreed on a plan, which would require her to wait until nightfall of the following day before any change might occur. Rather than go about my duties, I meandered down the slope to where her car was perched. From there I leaned against a tree and observed her. Being pinned, she could do very little in terms of nourishment. It was a struggle for her to just manage to get the dew off the rain jacket she had spread out to collect the droplets of condensation. Every part of my being wanted to help her, but it was against our policy to help her physically. My only interference was through dreams and acting as a substitute conscience.