Tag Archives: #flashfiction

Dirty Secret

Copyright 2017
All Rights Reserved

TW: adultery, murder, suicide

There he goes, not even noticing how I look at him. He doesn’t notice the look in my eye. He doesn’t see that he owns my heart and soul. He doesn’t know how much I need him.
It is wrong I know. But I can’t help but love him. I try to stay away. I try to remember he isn’t mine. I try. I try so hard.
Sometimes I slip.
But only when I am drunk, which is often, as I love him so.
I love him. How could I not?
It really is a sight to behold, that man.
But I am nothing but a dirty secret, for when he has had too much to drink, when the job gets to tough, and when he just needs someone other than his wife. He comes seeking a comfort only I can give.
But then he leaves again; the clock mocks me as it flashes two in the morning. Four hours. For four hours he was mine.
And now he will go back to her. His love. His soul. The one that doesn’t have to be the dirty little secret. The one that gets to tell the world he is hers. The one that gets to tell the world that he belongs to her. That the world knows has his heart. Even if I have his body for hours at a time.
I get up and look in my cabinet. The gun he gave me is there. For my protection, he had told me. He had a lot of enemies.
The pills the doctor gave me are there. For my depression. My anxiety. My seizures. All there.
I am sick of being someone’s dirty little secret. I look at them, but I slide down to the floor and sigh.
I don’t know how long I am there. But suddenly I hear my door open; only he can get in to my apartment. I wait for something, but nothing is coming. I hear the bathroom door open. He is standing there above me. He has a gun. I look up at him.
“You can’t be my dirty little secret anymore.” He pointed the gun at me and shot twice, into my chest.
As I lay there, the pain of the bullets in my chest, I was gasping for air.
I hear another shot; he had turned the gun upoin himself and shot himself in the head.
I struggle to get up. I make my way to the phone… I dial emergency services. “He killed himself…” I gasped out, and then my world went black…
I was no longer his dirty little secret.

Lonely Stories

2WordPrompt Twitter

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They tell their stories.
Someone stops & listens they light up.
How lonely they must be.
A lifetime of stories.
Lost on the young minds they tell.
A lifetime of hopes, dreams, loves, & loss.
Stories that make their life; told to strangers.
How lonely they must be.

Transport Me

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My movie theater always requires a walk to the door. The icy rain is running down my neck, it causes a chill and my speed to pick up, all to get to the heat within the door. Grabbing the wet handle, I rush into the warm air; I am hit with the smell of stale popcorn and sugar; it is powerful enough I almost taste it.

The silence of the winter now lost to the noise of people who didn’t want to spend their weekend at home. I look around and see a bunch of kids, many crying, and groan. I hand over my money for my ticket and quickly buy a bottle of water and rush to the theater to avoid the noisy children.

The floor is always sticky with slushes and popcorn, and I can hear how my foot sticks to the ground. I feel a shudder go through me. Why can’t they for once clean these theaters? But I promised a friend I would come see this movie with them.

I spot them quickly. Their smile hurts my eyes. They are so happy to see me. I quickly sit in the leather seat and they push a button to put my seat up. I hear them speaking, but I lose the words as the theater dims the lighting and the sound of the first trailer hurts my ear drums. But accept the handful of popcorn. It is stale upon my tongue.

When the movie starts I am transported from the sticky, smelly, stale, cold, wet, and crowded with screaming kids, theater and enter the world of the hero.

I can almost taste the food he is eating, smell it cooking, hear the pin drop in the background of his location, see him almost in 360 degree vision, it is like I can reach out and touch him.

With the movie, I remember why I brave the sticky, smelly, stale, cold, wet, and crowded with screaming kids, theater.

When the movie ends, and the credits roll, I come back to reality. 

The water I had bought warm, the popcorn now soggy in the butter and grease that now can be seen destroying the bucket, the floor now a stickier mess as we stand to leave, the ripping of our soles from the floor as we walk echo as we just watch the people rush back out into the cold icy weather. 

They are all in a hurry now to get home. The warmth of the heater is beating down upon us, if possible, the sounds and smells stronger than before, the salt and butter of the stale popcorn still on our tongue, even after we have finished our drinks, and we just look up at the board to see when another movie plays.

We look outside and see the icy rain has turned into snow; we shiver in thought of how that would feel across our skins as we tried to cross the vast parking lot. We smile and buy another ticket. 

After all, through all the faults of a movie theater, there is nothing quite like a good movie to transport you into another world.

Death Presents

Flash Fiction
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I remember it like yesterday. Was it yesterday? Time seems to blur lately with my depressed thoughts. That Hollow’s Eve that ended my childhood and set me upon this road. A loss of childhood is a requirement of life I guess, but one that still comes as a surprise to everybody when they realize it is over. Those carefree days, gone forever, often times in a blink of an eye. Many have contribute to that day, many that regret the choices that led to that day.

Even as I lay here and listen to the voices talk about what is to be done with me. I listen as my godfather slams the refrigerator closed, I listen as my godmother cries, and I even hear her blasted pet bird squawk against its cage being thrown about as people went to and fro.

I close my eyes as I remember that day upon the pier when my parents said good bye to me. That day that was only a week before that terrible day, but seems so far away. The ship of iron and steel then was hit by a ship killer. And that is what that storm did. It killed the ship and along with it my parents.

So as I lay here, moments after hearing the voices talk about where they would continue raising my ten-year-old self, and try to think. At that moment I strengthen my mind, I create walls around my heart, and I make a vow.

A vow that I will become the queen I am about to be crowned, and nobody, not even my godparents, will control my ambition to show the world I am my father’s daughter.

Those voices would not be able to control my ambition to have the world fear the name, Anne Bathory.

Because while I may not be Queen of my nation, I am queen of my land and my name would be feared.

That I can guarantee in my last moment of childhood, as Death has presented me with the Queen’s crown.

Hidden

Flash Fiction

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I lay here, my eyes wide open. My life it flashes before my life. My childhood. My teen years, and the start of the path I went down. My adult years and that final act that finally lead to this position. 

I lay here and wonder what my life had been like if I hadn’t made the choices I had. I lay here and feel, maybe for the first time in my existence, regret. 

So that is what regret feels like. Excitement. Release. A moment of relief. 

Those emotions for my life were the only ones I knew. Odd how now that my eyes are on display that I feel something I always should have all along. 

Remorse. Regret. Sadness. It is a novel feeling to finally feel… human. 

That part that was hidden so deep inside me. 

Now out in the open and on display as my eyes see the last faces they will ever see. 

They say eyes are the windows to the soul. That is why I used to wear sunglasses. Why I keep my eyes hidden from the world. So they won’t see the darkness of my soul. 

See the things that I had seen. See the things I have done. See my true soul. 

So I hid my eyes. Maybe I did feel, but I was so hidden. So hidden that I even hid my eyes from myself. I couldn’t look myself in the eyes. To look myself in the eyes would have reminded me of the sins I ran from. Remind me of the pain and death I caused. 

But today the glasses finally came off. 

Today my eyes will close forevermore, after they are bared for the world to see. 

As I finally pay for my sins. 

As they inject me with drugs to stop my heart my eyes wide open and on display, the world sees my soul and the fact I finally regret my choices. 

Regret my life. 

Regret I made my eyes a window to hell…