My love for you burns brighter than a thousand suns. I would walk through fire for you. You would never wonder where my heart lies. Please Ana, be mine.
Ana rolled her eyes. This was the third one this week.
All she wanted was a trip to the mall. Her ever pious mother refused and took her to antiques roadshow instead. She bought her an old rusty teapot.
It was better than expected, but when she told the genie she wanted love spell to wear she meant the perfume.
Don’t write again.”
Word Count: 99, per the rules
For the prompt at Carrot Ranch
Silence sounds like …
Your spirit spinning
Out of control to the DJ.
Your breath slowing
In puffs of hazy cigarette smoke.
Your heart pounding
Under the soft weight of my hand.
Your smile against
My hair under the cold moon.
The fading drops
Of my rocks failing to skip.
Your fingers drawing
Shivering lines down my back.
Silence sounds like …
All those things I feel in my soul
When your eyes lock with mine
And we fall away from time.
Originally published here in Dec. 2017. The prompt at the time was silence. Today’s RDP prompt is intimate
I couldn’t let love day go by without something!
I’m in the final weeks of my grad program. Unfortunately that’s meant I haven’t been on here. But if anyone’s interested in my research on investment in clean energy let me know and I may post the presentation here for all to see!
“What do you see?”
I see the future. I see you and me. I see my heart exploding. I see a million fireworks. I see galaxies.
I feel it all within me.
I see our first kiss, unintentionally wonderful. I see awkward laughs and gentle embraces.
“What do I see?”
I see I’m in love with you but I can’t tell you that.
“It just looks like a fire dying in the night to me.”
Word Count: 100
For Friday Fictioneers, massive thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for wrangling this massive flash fiction challenge in every week.
People are a little weird.
That’s the mantra of this town.
Specters and night crawlers
With thigh high make up
In star bowler company
Smoke infinitely long rings of mood dust.
Then there was me
Collapsing across peeling laminate counter tops
And day old sandwiches
With the the bread always toasted.
How one falls
In this topsy turvy place,
From barstools to backseats.
I suppose it only makes sense.
This has never been the city of dreams
But we liked to pretend.
And why not?
There always has been,
There always will be,
More ways to fall in love.
“Six … I count six broken dreams …”
“Oh my god Jerry! They’re just watering cans! I’m gonna put flowers in them.” Zan thrust a faded can into her boyfriend’s hands. “Saw it on pinterest; such a great way to spend a Saturday.”
Jerry looked down at their toddler son. Last time Zan ‘saw it on pinterest’ the family had to dress as zoo animals for pictures.
“This is what you do for love kiddo.” He whispered.
“Oh look! Here’s a yellow one!” Zan clasped her hands and gasped. “It has a bluebird!”
“Seven … I count seven …”
Word Count: 99
Many thanks to Rochelle for hosting weekly Friday Fictioneers. Visit her page for more info about the challenge. Want more fictioneers? Click the blue froggy below.
Your soul is a percussive instrument, beating and vibrating, keeping time with the wants and needs bouncing through your mind. You’re projecting, sending pulsing signals out into the world with every move you make, vibrations in colored solar flares to tell every soul what you seek, what they can help you find. We constantly meet and crash, impressing on one another the desires of each other. When my soul met yours it beat so perfectly in tune, moving in beat exactly with mine, complementing every move we made. There was no moment, no hesitation, only total realization. You were part of me and I was part of you, there’s never been another way it could be. Your soul is a percussive instrument and it beats in perfect time with mine.
This was posted in Nov 2017, just over a year ago. It’s not perfect but I’ve always liked it. The prompt of the day was percussive (I think).