Source: (picture of coffee cup with spoon, sugar dispenser and a plastic cup of water)
“Stop here. I’m hungry.” “Again, Jase?” He had made us stop five times for snacks already. “I’m having a growth spurt. Just stop already. Your passing it!” I was trying to pass it, he was right. But I relented when he added, “Don’t let my hunger turn to hanger. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.” We pulled off and found a diner as far off the beaten path as possible. It was so deserted I wondered how it stayed open. “You two must be lost,” the waitress drawled as we crossed the threshold, “Ain’t seen nobody but a local around here in a long time. Sit wherever. I’ll getcha some coffee.” She brought the coffee and Jase sniffed her awkwardly while she poured. I rolled my eyes, “Just do it. Don’t make it weird.” “What’s that?” the waitress asked but Jase had already reached a long tenticle out of his human suit and wrapped it around her head. “C’mon, Jase. Hurry up before the cook comes out…” my words were too late. He had already come out from the kitchen, pointing a gun at our heads. “I don’t know what kind of freaks you are but take your fucking tentacle off of Doris before I aaauuugh…” Jase was good. He had the cook wrapped in his other tentacle in a flash and was two-tenticled-feeding. “Jeez, you’re such a pig.” he burped in acknowledgement and dropped his snacks on the floor. He leaned back, unbuttoning his pants for effect. “I’m soooo full.” “Good. I’m tired of stopping. We’ll never get to Nebula Five in time for the race. I should have invited Carol.” “Stop. You love me and you know it.” He stood and ushered me back to the ship. “Besides we have only 20 million light years to go. C’mon. We’re almost there. I hear they are having a great spread!”
Originally published on Instagram for Romance Writer Challenge
Is it cliche if our eyes met
Across a crowded room
The music stopped
And the only sound
Was my heart beating
Wildly in my chest?
Is it too familiar If I stood and Dreamily made my way Ever closer and closer Never taking my eyes From his face?
Because it’s how it happened
How I didn’t see her
As she crossed the room
Carefully making her way
It’s how my head collided
With her tray of champagne
And I hit the floor
He pointed and laughed
But she reached down
Apologetic and concerned
And in my confusion
I leaned in for a kiss
That kiss started it all…
Originally published on Instagram’s Romance Writer Challenge June 2019
Prompt Day 2 “Meet Cute”
Source: (Picture of two men, holding each other in shadow)
I blinked stupidly in the sudden brightness. I had lost track of time stuck in the darkness for so long. Our lights had died days ago and Ted and I had sat in the darkness cuddled together for warmth and comfort. We had told each other all of our regrets and fears and joys, purging ourselves in preparation for death.
And something else… We fell in love in a way I didn’t know two men could. When we held each other and laid bare the details of our lives our hearts grew and became one. Facing death, we could finally be ourselves and in the all encompassing darkness of our caved in miners nightmare, we kissed, we undressed, we made love…
I wondered now, as the lights from our unexpected rescue illuminated our nakedness, if we would have been so free if we knew we would be saved. We could never be together, not without losing absolutely everything we had ever known… And yet, knowing love had changed me on some fundamental level. I would never be the same.
I blinked stupidly in the sudden brightness, which had illuminated my darkest secrets and fears, and wished a rescue had never come.
Originally published for Instagram’s Romance Writer Challenge June 2019 Prompt day 6 “Romance Genre”
Source: (Picture of rain drops on a dark background with suggestion of a shadowy face)
We met in the smoldering ruins of past
relationships. I found your eyes as you sat in your rickety chair, relating
your exquisite pain. How could I forget the unmistakable mustiness of the room,
the scraping of metal folding chairs or the burnt coffee served in Styrofoam
cups? It could have been any circle in any dingy church basement room but this
one was dear to me because you were there.
It was your turn to share, and you were
magnificent. My heart beat faster and faster as you laid bare your litany of
complaints for a roomful of strangers. You were so angry, so vulnerable, so
sexy, so un self-aware… It was breathtaking and heartbreaking all at once. I
had to make you mine.
You dominated the meeting, talking for what
felt like hours. Detailing the ways in which she hurt you. You clearly stated
all of your painful feelings and litany of complaints. It felt as if you were
telling a story crafted solely for my pleasure but you left me in a state of unsatisfied
longing. I yearned for more.
I followed you from the room, picking up
the tissue you deposited in the wastebasket as you passed. When we stepped out
into the cover of darkness I gobbled it up greedily, finally tasting your salty
snot and tears. I needed you inside of me so I could scent my way to you. Oh,
my love, this first taste of you was heaven! I was feverish with longing.
With your sweet nectar firmly entrenched in
my sense pods, I found your lair easily, and waited with giddy anticipation for
your return. It took a while, you must have stopped for coffee, but no matter,
the longer the separation, the sweeter the reunion, or some such human saying.
You left plenty of used tissues in the room for me to explore. I was able to
work myself into quite a frenzy by the time I finally heard footsteps, your unmistakable,
shuffling lurch, in the hallway.
My stomach leapt with anticipation as I heard your keys in the lock, opening the door at last. You were, as I had hoped, utterly depressed. I’ll never understand why you humans think support groups are helpful but I’m not complaining. Your pain is more delicious than any other species in the universe, tentacles down. I attached myself to your heartache and began to feed and feed and feed… you were nearly unendingly full of despair… until your life force gave out and I was finally satiated by the rattle of your final despondent breath. Broken Heart Syndrome was the cause of death. Ironically, my heart also broke from losing you. Only a major feed could heal it. I would need to hunt immediately.
Fuck!! Fuck! Of course he didn’t let it go. When had he ever let anything fucking go? But this time it wasn’t good. She didn’t give him what he wanted, what he always wanted and furthermore she had hit him hard when he tried to take it. She had a head start but she knew he was behind her. She didn’t waste time looking. She just ran for her fucking life and tried not to think about what he would do when he caught up. Which he would. He was a pretty fast triathlete.
Curse the day she had agreed to work at his shitty firm. And all the days since when she had witnessed his unbalanced, dangerous behavior and sleazy come-ons and hadn’t left. The money was good and she was trying to build a career but shit he was probably going to kill her tonight anyway. She knew too much and the only way to placate him was with her body and she had resoundingly said no.
As she ran past the elevator on her way to the stairwell the door opened in a way that might have seemed impossibly random if she had not been fleeing too hard to think. She took the risk running onto it and pounding the door close button. As the door closed she saw his red, ragey hate-filled face turn the corner. He saw her too but was too late. The door shut and the elevator lurched downward. Panicked she hit the emergency stop two floors below and slumped to the floor in tears.
“Ok. What now? What now? Shit!!! What the fuck can I do? This is so bad. So bad…” she checked her phone. No service in the elevator. She would have to leave here eventually. Her eyes lit on the emergency phone… Did she dare? She won’t be able to go home. He’ll come over. He’s tried it before. Where to? James! Right! She could drive to her cousin’s upstate… She just had to get safely to her car. She tried the phone. Dead. Ok. Security is in the basement near the elevator. She hit the down button and felt a sickening drop.
Faster and faster it dropped. She had been on the 112th floor it was over. She had run to save herself and now… She passed out.
The doors opened…
Light flooded in from the corridor. She opened her eyes slowly remembering nothing for a moment… and then realizing with a rush of panic that she didn’t know where she was or how she got there. That confused panicked blank slate feeling lasted a few moments and then slowly she recognized the elevator and remembered the fall and felt a numb shock come over her. She sat blinking into the light wondering what to do next. And then the music began…
It was beautiful and somehow corporeal. It felt like it was inside of her and all of her senses were vibrating pleasantly. She thought “If this is death it’s orgasmic.” and sure enough it was. She climaxed pleasurably, feeling her entire body tense and shudder. And then the music stopped leaving a sad emptiness in its wake. It grew silent and the light grew dimmer… and dimmer and she was filled with misery at the loss of all that was beautiful. She curled up fetally on the floor and wept until there was nothing left.
And then he entered… Entered the elevator. Entered her unencumbered by her current catatonic state. She felt the pain and revulsion but didn’t fight… couldn’t muster up enough caring to fight. She just submitted for what seemed an eternity. In a way it was-because she was unconscious before it was over.
When her broken tangled body was found the next morning it still possessed all of the characteristics of life but somehow she could not inhabit it again. She spent the rest of her days hovering nearby watching and waiting for the light and music to return.
As luck would have it, the expected battle was taking place on the river bank below my apartment window, which meant I could watch. Even luckier, it was nighttime so I could watch sneakily. I turned out the lights and slowly and quietly eased the window open in spite of the frigid evening.
My view overlooks a swath of old warehouses which hug the river behind a line of old buildings once home to various 19th century businesses when this was an old mining town. Its location just across the bridge from the local bar makes it a perfect place to duck into the space between the buildings for any number of activities. The things I’ve seen from these windows… are the precise reason I keep my blinds closed.
This time, however, I wanted to witness. This fight had been coming for ages and I had watched it nearly crescendo into disaster only to be pulled back from the brink far too many times not to crave satisfaction. It was like a pimple I was itching to pop and couldn’t quite reach.
“She fucking told me you slept with her, Todd. I confronted her after Jenni saw you together and she fucking admitted it. And I fucking let it go. I fucking let it go, Todd. Because I knew you were like this and I loved you and I thought you made a mistake. I fucking let it fucking go and then there you were wrapped all the fuck around her in the bar tonight. I’m fucking done, Ok? I don’t fucking love you that much, you scumbag.”
I sighed, relieved. She was finally leaving him.
“Jamie, c’mon. I was just hugging her. We’re friends okay? We were in grade school together.”
“Fuck you, loser. I was in fucking grade school too.”
I watched as he made a grab for her and she pushed him away.
“Don’t fucking touch me!”
I hadn’t seen this part coming and looked out anxiously, trying for a better view.
“Stop! Todd! No!” She screamed and I knew her well enough to feel my heart drop in fear.
I was up and running down the stairs without a second thought. It had always been that way with Jamie.
I had always loved Jamie. I knew right away when she showed up near the end of 5th grade and my heart skipped a beat. She had stood in front of the class, her dark eyes stubbornly returning our stares with a glare that dared anyone to mess with her. I immediately wanted to impress her, to show her I was anything but a shy, ugly girl, shrinking into the corner of the playground… but I was a shy ugly girl who shrank into the corner of the playground which was how I found myself watching her from the shadow of a large pine tree at afternoon recess.
Jamie seemed to naturally migrate to the boys and joined their daily kickball without creating much of a disturbance. She was a really good kickball player and managed to score a home run immediately, whereupon Billy Jenkins cheered and offered her a high five. I instinctively shot a glance at Brenda Macintosh and noted that she too was watching Jamie through her impossibly long lashes while whispering intently to Norma, Billy’s twin sister. Norma was fervently shaking her head, narrowed eyes fixed on the action. Brenda, it was well known in Mrs. Quesnel’s 5th grade class, had a crush on Billy.
Within minutes, Brenda was striding huffily over to Jamie ready for a fight. I was out of my hiding place before I realized what I was doing and found myself by Jamie’s side intending to defend her… unnecessarily, it turned out, since Ms. Marta, the classroom aide had stepped smoothly into Brenda’s path just four feet from where Jamie stood.
Jamie, who hadn’t noticed Brenda, was looking confusedly at me, standing next to her, panting and red-faced with balled fists. She followed my eyes to Ms. Marta escorting Brenda to the other end of the playground for a talking to.
“What just happened?” she asked.
“Brenda is in love with Billy and was coming after you.” The words tumbled out with my exhale.
“Were you defending me?”
I felt my face flush but didn’t answer. I turned to walk away but Jamie grabbed my shoulder.
“We’re friends now, okay?”
I nodded, looking at the ground.
“Good.” She said, “Stay and play.”
We were nearly inseparable after that day.
As soon as I got outside, I heard her scream intensify, followed by an even more terrible silence. I was running and dialing the phone when I saw Todd run off for the side street that followed the river as it meandered out of town.
“Fucking piece of shit, Todd!” I screamed as the 911 operator answered.
“911 What’s your emergency?”
“That piece of shit, Todd Blaise, hurt my friend. We’re at 5151 Front Street behind the building near the river. He ran off down River Street. Hurry!”
I turned the corner and saw Jamie lying lifeless on the ground. “Shit. She’s not moving.”
I switched the phone to speaker and threw it on the grass beside her. I knew the operator was trying to give me instructions but I had already switched into emergency mode and probably knew the instructions better than she did. I did this often at work. I bent over her feeling for a pulse and checking for breathing.
“No pulse no breathing. I’m starting CPR with 2 rescue breaths.” I bent over her, placing my mouth around hers.
It was the summer after graduation and we had gone to Canada with a group of friends to enjoy a summer music festival and the reduced drinking age. It had been three nights of constant partying and Jamie and I had decided to forego the party and chill in our room. We put all the blankets on the floor in front of our balcony door and turned the lights out to watch the fireworks competition taking place over the river that night. We lay there, scantily clad, sipping champagne and giggling long after the fireworks had ended.
“Jenni, remember the time I decided to run away and took Clara with me because I didn’t want to miss her?”
“Yeah. You made it a whole two blocks to my house before Clara had to pee.”
“She was so little… remember how she was always clinging to me?” She looked at me tearfully, “Remember, Jenni? She always wanted to do everything I did. She tried so hard to be like me.”
I knew where this was going and instinctively put my arms around her. Jamie’s little sister, Clara, had died in an accident when she was seven and we were thirteen.
I held her while she cried and continued to hold her after she stopped and when our lips met, softly, lovingly, over and over until we forgot our sadness and the kissing became more urgent. Our embrace progressed to desperate writhing and we removed our clothes, feverish with need. We made love on the floor on top of the blankets for what felt like hours before drifting into a haze of satisfied exhaustion.
That was the first time. The first time I held her, the first time I kissed her, the first time we made love but not the first time I knew I loved her. I always had but I knew her father was fervently against homosexuality and I had always been afraid to tell her how I felt. Now, I was elated we could finally be together. I held her lovingly, hopefully, as I fell into the restful sleep of post coital relief.
Jamie, however, seemed to feel differently and had disappeared in the morning. She had apparently packed her bags and camped out in the hotel lobby until it was time to go. We had ridden home awkwardly in the back of a friend’s car, exchanging furtive glances in the silence.
We had not seen each other again until the day before I left for college. When we said goodbye it was like she wanted to pretend nothing had ever happened. I felt my heart break silently in my chest but mirrored her jovial tone as much as I could. It had taken me most of my first semester to get over it.
I began chest compressions. Counting out loud.
“1… 2… 3…”
How many times had I had to let her go already?
“4… 5… 6…”
Was this it then?
“7… 8… 9…”
The final solution?
“10… 11… 12…”
This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.
“13… 14… 15…”
She had promised.
“16… 17… 18…”
She had said she was ready.
“19… 20… 21…”
Fuck! I wasn’t letting her die.
“22… 23… 24…”
I wasn’t letting us die
“25… 26… 27…”
I’ve loved her for too long to let her go.
“28… 29… 30…”
I repositioned to give her two more rescue breaths, placing my mouth on hers once again.
It was two years and several relationships later before we had been able to talk about what had happened that night. I was openly bisexual by that time and a bit of a player. Jamie had just ended a long relationship with a man, her married Literature professor. She was devastated and unable to understand why she had chosen a man as unavailable as her professor. We sat on my couch, drinking wine and commiserating until she was drunk enough to tell me the truth.
“I only dated him to get over you.”
My heart skipped but I kept my gaze steady and merely raised an eyebrow questioningly.
“That night, In Montreal. You and me… I never…,” her voice broke, “I never meant to… I just was too afraid to be with you.”
I was unable to speak. I just stared at her, all the horrible moments of getting over her accumulating in my heart.
“Jenni. Say something. Please.”
“It was too hard, Jamie.”
“What was too hard?”
“Pretending I was fine all the time. Pretending I didn’t love you. You were the one who acted like it was a mistake.”
“I know,” she said, tears falling down her cheeks, “I couldn’t face it. You know? I’m sorry, Jenni. I didn’t mean to hurt you, to hurt myself.”
I was openly sobbing and this time she reached out to me.
We held each other, crying, and she promised it would be different this time. She promised she was ready and she didn’t want to let me go but she didn’t want her dad to know. We spent that summer dating in secret. I put my whole heart into her but she broke it off with me before returning to school. She wasn’t able to be open and I wasn’t able to hide.
This became our pattern. She would come back to me over and over, promising she was ready and once I gave my heart over, she would run and date another shitty man whom she could never really love. Loving Jamie was like driving at breakneck speed on a cliffside road. It was exhilarating but I knew it would hurt when, inevitably, I hit the edge.
I was back to chest compressions and heard the sirens getting close. Please hurry, I begged silently as I counted out loud. Please let us have a chance.
The paramedics showed and relieved me, leaving me to fade back from the action and dive headfirst into my pain. I could barely watch. I didn’t want to count the number of cycles. I didn’t want to feel my hope fading, draining slowly to the river below along the rivulets of her blood. I wouldn’t listen when the paramedics came to talk to me. I wouldn’t leave when my cousin came to collect me. I didn’t hear or care what happened to Todd. I barely noticed the police officer’s attempts to question me. I couldn’t care about anything anymore.
Eventually I became aware that I was no longer sitting on the riverbank but was instead in the river looking up through the dense water. For a moment, I saw Jamie’s face smiling down at me and then I lost consciousness…
Source (picture of tree trunk with orange leaves and bushes in background)
They said I was mad and sent me away to live in isolation at the edge of the forest.
I had no friends, no daily interactions, no love from another human. The loneliness sucked at my soul until I learned to sit and sense the movement of the forest around my stillness.
I watched the graceful spiral of leaves, dancing and twirling on the whim of a breeze. I heard the harmony of the forest stream, chanting and chiming through its bed of stones. I felt the gentle kiss of wind and snow on my face, wafting and whirling from above.
In the winter, the snow drifted down in silent flurries, muting the forest melody with its heavy insulation that crunched and creaked underfoot. In the spring, the snow thawed and froze in newly formed rivulets, while sweet lullabies of rebirth were tweeted from newly budded limbs. In the summer, the living creatures filled the air with raucous noise, while enchanting scents floated on the sultry current of a summer storm. In the fall, the birds left in chattering flocks, leaving a wake of silence, as the trees shed their adornments, preparing once again for restful slumber.
They said I was mad and sent me away but in the rhythm of change I found peace. My madness was sanity after all.
Source (Picture of a close up of a man in a suit making a thumbs up sign)
It’s not like people don’t die where I work.
They do. Death is just a part of the deal when you work here. In fact, just
last week two people died. I mean, someone had to go out into the fire fields
and turn the release valves and Justin drew the short straw. Unfortunately, he
panicked and spent his last few breaths banging on the door and crying instead
of completing his task, which meant we had to subsequently send Bertha out to finish
the job. It was a complete waste and frankly, it will continue to affect morale
because Bertha made the best (I mean, hands down, the absolute B-E-S-T)
birthday cakes with buttercream frosting for everyone’s birthdays and Flora’s
crappy fruit cakes are not going to cut it.
I sigh heavily as I write up my report. Fucking Justin. He cost me a month of paperwork. He was always complaining too, “Maybe we should find another way to release the pipe pressures” or “Did you read my proposal about alternative fuel we could use to make the fire fields obsolete?” or my favorite, “It doesn’t have to be anyone’s turn. I could fix it if you just…” He didn’t finish that one because Joe slammed the airlock door right in his annoying, whiny face. Thank God. Complainers… Am I right?
Anywho, now there’s a lot of paperwork to do because some cranky bitch from HR is all worked up about our decreased safety record and feels it’s “inappropriate to sacrifice trained employees even to ensure the safety of the colony” and we should “consider using untrained labor or heroic volunteers to reduce the cost of constant retraining” or whatever. Ugh! All this and all I’ve had to eat today is Flora’s stale fruit cake.
The warning alarm goes off interrupting my
internal tirade. One by one we file to the front of the room to draw a straw
from the dispenser. People look nervous, but management always puts on a brave
face. Mostly, because we know the system is rigged in our favor. Who’s to know
when we are the only ones who have been here more than five years?
Except… I reach my hand in and pull out what
is undoubtably the shortest straw. “That’s impossible, it’s n-,“ I stutter but
Joe pulls me into his office before I can finish my sentence.
“Sorry, Steve.” He smiles his most personable
smile. “The higher ups are complaining about your performance. It’s your turn
to go.”
I want to respond but my blood has turned to
ice while my feet have cemented themselves to the floor. “No worries,” Says Joe
pushing me towards the airlock, “You’ll remember what to do once you’re in the
fields. The training will kick in.”
“But… But…” I stammer as he closes the door
with a final wink waving jauntily.
Natolie Webb 