The entourage came to a halt and her footman helped her descend from the royal carriage. Was that him, that insipid-looking boy? Well, it was too late now. Marie was committed until the guillotine would part them.
It had been a long and tedious journey from Vienna. Her body was weary from lack of sleep and the bouncing carriage. But today the worst would be over; she was meeting her husband at the Chateau de Compiegne. She had never met him, but she had seen a portrait when she married him by proxy two years earlier. He looked attractive enough.
The entourage came to a halt and her footman helped her descend from the royal carriage. Was that him, that insipid-looking boy? Well, it was too late now. Marie was committed until the guillotine would part them. She was at wits’ end.
His head was spinning. Blond hair propelling upward like helicopter blades ready to cut her and send him heavenward. “No,” he said. “Yes…...Ok, if you don’t eat your veggies, worms will start coming out of your butt.” He stopped. “It’s true. If you don’t eat good food you’ll start seeing squiggly worms coming out of your butt. Just five bites and we’ll be done, ok?” She shoved a spoonful of slimy, green, asparagus in. He chewed. She smiled. Wisdom softening her guilt. “NO” “NO” “Mom”...he screamed. In every direction lies a forest of black legs. I keep pace, refusing offers of 'a ride' or 'a carry'. I like walking and the legs are walking slowly; very slowly.
A stray sunbeam creates a path of light in front of me. It is out of place, highlighting the gloom. It is the gloom I seek. Soon I will be encouraged into the spotlight. Showered with grief and words. I know this. No one has warned me, but still, I know this. Here, within the black forest, I am cocooned in love, protected. Walking slowly, I follow the hearse. He wasn’t a very religious man, but, in this situation, he thought about the saints. He assumed most of them had suffered severe trauma and pain on the way to their martyrdom. And now he was facing his own moment of truth and wondered how he would stack up against them.
His wife quietly entered the room and sat at the table beside him. She saw the single tear tracking down his face, and said, “Don’t be a baby, give me your hand.” She gently removed the tiny splinter from his thumb, put down the tweezers, and kissed his cheek. He pushed another pebble with the top of his sneaker and leaned forward to watch it fall from sight. There was just the cliff edge and nothingness. No safety barrier or rock ledge would hinder the pebble -or him. It was the most accessible place with the smallest amount of risk; clear all the way to the bottom. Deep enough to end a worthless life.
He glanced again at the loving text message from his mum. Squaring his shoulders and summoning all his courage, he took a step away from the cliff. A backwards step to a new beginning. Covid-careful, I stay in the car while hubby shops, people watching… my favourite pastime. Amazing how some people park! What on earth is that man wearing? Ahh…that woman is discreetly back-tracking to check if she locked her car. Been there, done that. Many times.
What is that man in the red Honda doing? Scribbling something in a notebook. I wonder what? Fast Forward…I submit my FFF, read through other people’s stories. People Watching by John Smith - Here I sit in my red car. I wonder what that woman in the yellow Kia is scribbling in her notebook… Wanna drink, babe?
No? Oh, okay, I'll wait to have one too. Yeah, I'm sure. May I sit beside you? Haha, yeah, I guess I am silly, but I'm also a gentleman. Dying breed...yeah, I know. Wanna hold hands? Sweet. This is really nice, just you and me here. The evening had a rocky start, but we made it through. Haha, you were, weren't you? I love you so much. You don't have to say anything, babe. That look in your eyes says it all. You will stay the night. In fact, you'll stay forever. However brief that might be. Avery stumbled down the hall and yawned. “I don’t care, El,” she moaned downstairs to her sister, “It’s too early to be asking me questions.” She didn’t even remember what Ellery said.
Intuition made her backtrack and stare at Ellery’s bedroom window until the ladder and pair of shoes jogged her memory of their conversation; she felt silly. Avery continued to the bathroom and yelled, “Why didn’t you tell me you already called someone to come clean the gutters?” “I didn’t call anybody yet!” Ellery responded, “What are you talking about?” The window glass shattered, and a heavy thud echoed. Music 253: Ride the Lightning: Heavy Metal Music. Trent just needed one elective to round out his schedule his last semester at school. He had everything from AC/DC to Testament in his Spotify. Strolling into class the first day rocking his Megadeth T-shirt, he eyed the instructor, sporting a three-piece suit. By the end of the semester, Trent had put more time into reading scholarly articles for that class than he did on his senior thesis in psychology.
His new goal was to study metal’s effects on the amygdala for his Master’s degree. Do you always record your dream as soon as you wake up, even if it’s at dead of night? I ask my writer-friend.
Yes, otherwise they vanish never to return. The unresolved ideas I hit the sack with often get sorted out in my dreams. Immediately you switch the light on and start scribbling? I write in the dark! Can you easily recognise it later? It looks like automatic writing done by a medium in séance! Nobody else can recognise it. Does this nightly act take its toll on your health? It does. But then life without commitment is meaningless. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too.” “You don’t need to apologize. It was my fault.” “Yes, I know. That’s why I’m sorry.” “What do you mean?” “I’m sorry you did something you had to apologize for.” “If you’re still sorry about it, that means you didn’t accept my apology.” “Yes, I do accept your apology.” “But you said you were still sorry about it after I said I was sorry about it, which means you hadn’t accepted my apology.” “That’s right. I didn’t accept your apology until after I said I was still sorry about it.” “So, we’re good?” “We’re good.” I told him before we left, “Behave yourself.” But he ignored me. Youngest siblings get away with misbehaving much more often than other children. He had always been our mother’s favorite and a bit of a loose cannon. He spent much of his time roaming the hills instead of helping out with the family business. Who knows what he does out there?
Well, we are back home now, and the trip was a disaster. Not only did he violate the rules of diplomacy, his actions have threatened Troy. And to make it worse, Helen is now here. Apollo help us! I remember visiting Dad after the operation. He loved the details of any process. Propped up in the bed, he said, “They sliced open my chest and sawed my rib cage down the middle.” He ran his finger from his neck down to his stomach and smiled. “Then they pried back my ribs, and to keep the ribs from snapping closed they have these braces like a fireman’s ‘jaws of life’. Pretty amazing if you think about it.”
I asked if it hurt. He said yes, it hurts like hell. His eyes fluttered and he fell asleep. Scott was thinking about last night's date. He was told that Ella was not bad looking and could be an easy score.
Even before the appetizers were finished, alarm bells went off. Her shrilled chitter chatter revealed that she had only fluff between her ears. Worse, she chomped on her food! Scott shuddered when he imagined what she would sound like in a moment of passion...Passion? Romance? Not a chance! His thoughts then turned to his friend, Mark, who had set up that disastrous date. Yep! Arranging a cold buffet of revenge will be sooo much fun. Agnes Brenner died six months ago.
Her wrinkles had stretched as her skin had shrunk, and her grey hair gathered in a stiff nest under her head. Her eyelids peeled open to reveal pale, green pools of jelly, the soul’s windows smashed. Her cheeks were replaced by sunken triangles of decaying flesh. Spots of black spread over her throat and chin. A dull purple was consuming her body from bottom to top, like a supine mariner sinking into the cold, grey sea. Albert got into bed beside Agnes, where he had slept every night for the past 55 years. It began when James bought a new car. There were so many cool features. The one he loved most, though, was the blind spot indicator on his side mirrors.
James knew most car accidents happen from the rear. He himself had been sideswiped. Now he had plenty of warning. He was convinced his favorite new feature had saved him more than once. Unfortunately, James became so fixated on what was coming from behind that he began to pay far less attention to what lay ahead. One day, a flash caught his eye, and he never saw the semi stopped ahead. I was lost in the wilderness. Alone. Dense leaves crowning Mahogany trees blotted the sun. An owl hooted. I winced as sharp thorns brushed against me. A pack of jackals howled. My heart pounded in my throat.
Summoning every ounce of willpower, I inhaled deeply to still myself. I had spent way too much time navigating the forest of thoughts in my head. I concentrated on my breath till I chanced upon a clearing. A cobbled pathway became visible. Back home safe, I decided never to venture into the wilderness of the mind, without the compass of my breath. The house became too quiet for Claire. Normally she’d hear her dad’s snoring through the wall separating their bedrooms.
Did her parents fight? Often in the aftermath Dad slept in the basement. Claire tiptoed through the house. No sign of him. The family room door, however, was ajar behind the drapes. She switched on the outdoor light. “TURN OFF THE LIGHT,” yelled Dad. He held a container of earthworms and a flashlight. “I don’t want neighbours seeing me in my pyjamas.” Lights turned on in nearby houses. Neighbours stared through windows. Claire remembered. Dad was going fishing later that day. “I’m done for; out of diesel.” His master thumps the steering wheel. “Away dog,” the cab door swings open and Kev jumps out. He’s been riding shotgun while they search dense bushland for stray sheep. Then dry lightning struck… flames crackled…sky turned fiery orange.
He tracks through falling ash and blackened gum leaves; nose sniffing out humans, guiding him home. “Away, dog,” farmhands command, leaping into their trucks and crashing behind Kev as he races back along his trail through blistering scrub. “That’ll do, dog.” Kev gnaws a meaty bone; a just reward from his master, singed but home safe. Ralph couldn’t believe that Laura, after much arguing, tears and some destructive violence, was finally gone from his house and his life.
He could be happy again, free from her verbal abuse, annoying habits and endless lunatic theories on witchcraft, curses and satanic revenge. Peace, quiet and sanity returned again. But yet . . . something was still there. Something that hovered like a malignant cloud in every room, a desperate, foul evilness. Then Ralph knew that Laura would always there, would never be gone, never leave him alone. He was cursed. So he burned the place down. George sharpened his scythe and blew it into the tall grass. But a powerful gust of wind blew the grass, and George froze his scythe in the air. A three-year-old girl was sleeping in the grass. George took her in his arms and headed for the nearby house.
Is this your baby? No, my sister’s, replied the mistress, a widow with three children. Time to time George brought the little girl candy and flowers for the mistress. A year later, a baby girl was born in that house. The baby from the grass was happy with her cousin. Suddenly the unbreakable shattered. Both of us were reaching for it when it slipped. It wasn’t supposed to happen. Neither of us anticipated it. The dish tumbled as if in slow motion, falling first to one side, then to the other, until it met the hardwood floor and shattered into a thousand pieces, scattering in all directions. We looked in silence and disbelief. She was the first to speak, saying it had something to do with the tension that’s built in, how a plate is manufactured, how the stress builds to the moment that it fractures. And a marriage ends.
Lucky me, beside a gaggle of young estrogen vessels. All these cake toppers have the same tanning affliction, lipstick, and engagement rings. There’s no minding if handbags are kicked into my area or a blonde tress flicked into my face. While chattering, shoes come off and bare feet are placed on the seat. I get to watch one study her heels (for dryness). One turns to me like she just realized my seat had someone in it. I interrupted the cuticle focus.
Landing (gratefully), I am not alone getting this education. Rows 5 through 8 are up to the minute. An email recently arrived from "Sarek the Old". From the planet Vulcan, he sought permission to translate some Friday Flash Fiction stories into Vulcan for a school textbook.
I explained that Sarek needed to contact each author separately for permission. He called this illogical, and we argued briefly. However, to sign off on a friendly note, I said, "Dif-tor heh smusma!" "I'm sorry, I don't understand." "Live long and prosper!" I repeated. "In Vulcan?" "Yes, but I am already old, and you do not wish me to prosper. It's illogical." "Now that you mention it..." I thought, then blocked him. Bill needed to escape. His job was stressful, and he was sick of the same old routine. But where to go? He yearned for a new perspective, somewhere fresh and exciting .
“Just drive,” he thought. “See where the road takes you.” He started the engine. Bill had never really noticed the beauty of his small town. The buildings were colorful and unique, and the landscape was attractive. People of all ages on the street were enjoying the sunny day doing whatever. They didn't seem to have a care in the world. “Home sweet home,” Bill thought. “My little paradise.” |
"Classic"
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