The rules of the conversation were laid out forcefully, explicitly. He was not to speak or interrupt, only listen. He was warned that if he became upset or enraged it would not be tolerated.
These harsh words spoken by someone who supposedly loved him and a person he adored. These words so different from those of great love shared just hours before. He was inwardly distressed but scared to show his feelings, fearing repercussions.
He stood motionless, staring, and unable to form a response. He felt his usual docile temperament was pushed and prodded to its breaking point. The hornet’s nest had been poked for the last time. His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream that his mouth unintentionally released. He did not hear his words only of their delivery. He grasped at the air trying to pull them back, but it was too late.
The hall was crowded and David eased his way towards the stage. Squeezing through the throng and ducking under the inevitable signs, he found the spot where his view was unobstructed.
He checked his watch noting it was seven fifty, and then patted his left chest pocket for reassurance. He could hear his heart pounding and he began to sweat.
His fellow directors had chosen to boycott the meeting but there was no way he was going to miss it.
On cue the President of the Autoworkers Union was introduced by the speaker on stage. He entered to resounding cheers and applause from the members. Watching carefully David noted no one left and no one came on the bare platform to join the two men. This was his chance. Amidst the noise, he pulled the gun from his jacket and fired the deadly shot.
Sarah is hosting D’Verse Poets tonight and the theme is Prosery. A piece of flash fiction of 144 words or less. She has asked us to use the following line from the poem Adelstrop by Edward Thomas – No one left and no one came on the bare platform.
Theirs was a short, passionate history going back years. They had been close. So close they could read each other’s minds. They would often finish each other’s sentences as if they were one and the same person. Kindred spirits who ran feely with not a care in the world.
Their bond was deep but it was evanescent. It seemed to us that as quickly as it had blossomed, it was over
They say there are moments caught between heartbeats where love lies dormant, sometimes for a lifetime. All it takes is for that one special soul to find their way in into the layers of our mind and ignite that fiery passion.
This is how it was for them. The spark was kindled but they took no care of their fire. The embers were left dying in the dirt until it burned no more.
Kim of Writing in North Norfolk is hosting Prosery at D'Verse Poets tonight and has asked us to write a flash fiction piece that includes these words from a Louis MacNeice poem called 'Coda" ‘There are moments caught between heart-beats’. Prosery requirement is exactly 144 words excluding the title.
Kim from Writing in North Norfolk is hosting D’Verse Poets tonight and has prompted us wirth another Prosery (Flash Fiction) continuing exactly 144 words which must include the words ‘You will love again the stranger who was your self’ from a poem by Derek Walcott.
You were young and beautiful, a breath of fresh air, and we all watched you with our jaws on the sidewalk.
Anything was possible for someone like you. So perfect you could hang the moon and the stars. I was completely smitten and let you wrap me around your little finger. I would have done anything for you.
One evening you agreed to take a walk with me along the bank of the river. That night I shared my true feelings with you, telling you how beautiful you were, and that your eyes twinkled like the stars in the sky. You laughed in my face. Your words cutting me like a knife.
In anger I placed my hands around your throat and squeezed until you laughed no more.
That night I dreamt I was the moon and you were the one who hanged me..
Walking slowly through the woods, Jessica was lost in her thoughts. It had been an emotionally driven weekend and she desperately wanted to shake off the remnants of the past two days.
She stopped suddenly when far away an interrupted cry jerked her out of her reverie. She wondered what it could be. Perhaps someone was hurt or an animal maybe.
Hearing it again she moved quickly towards the sound. She had come off the trail and was venturing into the deep forest. The sound was closer now, and as she pulled back some wayward bushes, she saw it.
There in front of her was a dog tied to a tree. It was clearly distressed
‘Oh, you poor doggie, who did this to you?’ Jessica said tenderly
‘Get away from the bitch. Now!’ he said as he pointed the 12-gauge shotgun at her.
Bjorn is hosting at D'Verse Poets this Monday and has challenged us to write some flash fiction - no more than 144 words. It also has to include this line from "When far away an interrupted cry" from Acquainted with the Night by Robert Frost
It was 2:45 PM and he was early. He took a tall iced latte and sat away from the door. Sitting carefully, he straightened the legs of his freshly cleaned khaki pants.
Flipping through his phone he looked again at her photo. Pretty, outdoorsy and her profile said she owned her own company.
Looking down again at his pants, he reflected on how many khakis he owned. Six or seven pairs at least. It was part of his ‘uniform’. Each internet date he went on, he dressed the same and always ordered an iced latte. If the date quickly went south, he would cleverly spill the coffee in his lap and make an excuse to leave.
Lost in his thoughts he didn’t see her arrive. She introduced herself and he said “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” She replied, “Yes I own the dry cleaners on the corner”
He couldn’t believe his eyes. It was the most amazing thing he had ever seen. He was in the middle of a forest and the floor was covered in beautiful flowers. There were deer gamboling through the trees and he could hear music.
Walking slowly towards him was a beautiful girl. Barefoot and draped in a blue dress, a vision of loveliness. Beautiful flowers were in her hair, a stag at her side and she was playing a wooden flute or whistle. He was mesmerized by the sight and sounds.
As she came closer he stood motionless in a stupor, hypnotized by the scene.
He said to himself in a whisper, ‘Man, these drugs are good.’
She arrived early and the square was empty. It was difficult for her to blend in to the surroundings so she stepped into a doorway and waited.
Her contact was late. When he arrived, she watched him stop and light a cigarette. Drawing on it slowly and inhaling. He looked around and then dropped to tie his shoe. She watched him tuck something into the wooden box next to the water pump. He stood up, flicking the cigarette away, and left hurriedly.
Looking around she saw an old woman approaching the pump with two pails on a pole balanced across her shoulders. She waited patiently until it was clear.
Finally, the old woman left and the square was empty again. Quickly, with her heart pounding, she retrieved the small package from the box and disappeared from sight.
She had risen early, taking advantage of her last day on Virgin Gorda in the British Virgin Islands. She wanted to go to the Baths before it got crowded with tourists and enjoy the relaxing pools between the enormous rocks. There was a certain energy in the quiet sanctuary of the water and a calming atmosphere.
The sun was barely above the horizon when she removed her clothes. Leaving them on the rocks she waded into the crystal-clear pools. The water was refreshing and she dipped below the surface feeling the sensual shock as it consumed her body. With eyes closed she let herself drift underwater for a few moments holding her breath. As she attempted to surface, she realized she was wedged between two boulders and could not raise her head above the water to breathe. She was trapped and no one was there to save her.