In the End — Sharing

Another great piece on the Drabble. How can someone be so riveting in so little words?!

By Donna L. Greenwood “When they drop the bomb, there’ll be nothing left worth surviving for,” he said. And then they dropped the bomb. I couldn’t bring myself to gobble up the pills or drink the vodka he had provided. He had no such trouble. Halfway through the vodka, he told me a joke about […]

via In the End —

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Sharing from the Drabble

By Richard Helmling As the ash piled up on the sixth day, they finally decided to head south. “Por favor,” they made their son practice as they drove. They avoided El Paso because the last radio broadcasts they had received said it was impossible to cross there. So they found a seemingly desolate stretch of […]

via Inversion —

A short piece but it packs a punch.

The Baby

Yes, it’s okay to play with the ball in the house; we won’t break anything and mom will never know; look you broke it, mom’s gonna be so mad; let’s play cops and robbers, you be the robber and I’ll be the cop; don’t worry I won’t leave you tied up here all day; I’ll be right back to look for you, it’s part of the game stupid; I see you managed to get yourself loose from that rope, I knew I should have tied it tighter; don’t tattle you little baby; yes there are monsters in your closet; I can’t believe you fell for that you stupid baby; when will you ever learn?

Keeping Time

Another old assignment from my undergrad years as a creative writing major at UCF.

“Again Daddy, again,” Susie laughed as her father, Frank, finished waltzing her around their private garden. The array of flowers changed from side to side, surrounding the father and his daughter with pink and red roses, white and purple carnations, aromatic white gardenias, and orange and yellow chrysanthemums, their sweet aroma dancing around them.

“Again?” he chuckled, bestowing his beloved daughter with a tender smile. “We’ve already danced through two songs.”

“But this one is my favorite.” She giggled, clasping her hands in front of her, bending forward in urgency, pleading for another dance with her father.

“That’s what you said about the last two.” He winked at her, a mirthful glint in his eyes. He was teasing her, pretending to sit down on the gray marble bench near the garden’s arch entrance, watching as she anxiously awaited him to join her again. Of course, he would not deny his little girl another dance.

The next song began, a delicate melody being plucked lightly on an acoustic guitar. The sun floated in the sky, a brilliant, golden orb. Susie never stopped laughing and smiling, her happiness contagious. A cool summer breeze ruffled their clothes and hair, and the sun warmed them inside out. The flowers’ fragrance in the air was sweet on their lips.

“This one is my absolute favorite,” Susie chimed, tilting her head back as her father held onto her, keeping her from falling.

“This one is my favorite too.” Frank took Susie’s hand and twirled her gracefully, so content with that small, soft hand clinging to his. The music began to fade to an end just as the sun was almost finished setting, leaving a perfect line of gold on the horizon. Susie’s head nodded and Frank picked her up, bringing her inside, keeping time to the fading waltz.

Childhood Pranks —

Reblogged from The Drabble. I couldn’t not share this one. Too funny.

By The Urban Spaceman Two weeks into summer break and bored out of their minds, Tommy and D.J. rode their bikes two miles to the abandoned church in the countryside. They spent three days chiselling the image of a giant penis into an outer wall, and the rest of the summer giggling over their artistic […]

via Childhood Pranks —

Forever Golden

Wrote this a few years ago for an assignment in my first creative writing class at UCF.

It was their fiftieth anniversary, the golden one. Fifty years ago on this day Theodore and Ethel were married in her father’s blooming garden. It had been filled with red and pink roses, white and purple carnations, purest white gardenias, and orange and yellow chrysanthemums, their sweet aroma dancing in the air around the young and hopeful newly weds.

She had worn her mother’s wedding gown and he had used his mother’s wedding ring. The sun floated in the sky, a brilliant, golden orb. There were only three witnesses to this matrimony, and they were Theodore, Ethel, and Father James. Both Ethel’s and Theodore’s parents were dead. They did not need to invite friends or distant family. They had each other.

After the brief ceremony, Ethel and Theodore remained together in the garden, reminiscing on times past and looking forward to the future. They danced to far away whispered music, hearing the strings of the acoustic guitar being plucked delicately from somewhere within them. Fifty years later, Ethel and Theodore still danced in the garden, appreciating the flowers’ sweet scents and feeling the golden setting sun warm them from the inside out.

“Theodore darling, can you believe it’s already been fifty years?” Ethel asked in a hushed voice and with a smile on her face.

“The best fifty years of my life,” Theodore responded tenderly, stroking her hair with a gentle hand.

“Do you remember the wedding?”

“Like it was yesterday,” he answered softly, a distant look in his eyes.

“You looked so handsome in your uniform.”

“And you were stunning in that dress,” Theodore replied lovingly.

“It was just the two of us.”

“That’s all we needed,” he said.

“We danced all night.”

“I held you just like this,” he whispered.

“We planned our future completely.”

“And all those dreams came true.”

A serene sigh escaped Ethel’s lips. The sun had almost completely set by now, leaving a perfect line of gold on the horizon. She and her husband swayed to the long forgotten melody of fifty years ago. The garden’s blooms were beginning to wilt away, but their fresh fragrance still lingered in the cool, evening air.

“Happy anniversary, honey,” Theodore said dreamily to his beloved wife of fifty years.

“Happy anniversary, Theodore darling,” Ethel replied, exhaling happily.

Hand in hand, they walked out of the garden as they had fifty years ago, and thought upon that golden sun and what it would bring them next.

Waiting On the River

This is an updated version of a piece of flash fiction I wrote for a prompt. The original is published on my old writer’s blog here.

A drop of sweat rolled down Riley’s forehead. Her eyes darted back and forth. She stared at the hand in her grasp.  She swallowed hard and licked her lips as she called the last bet, throwing more of her precious few chips into the pot.

With shoulders tensed and fingers clasping her cards tight, she felt a ripple of relaxation spread around the room, ending with the Cowboy tisking and whispering, “Brave little toaster.”  She said nothing.

True, it was only a two pair of sixes and sevens, and the Cowboy might’ve had her beat with a full house or four of a kind…if he was waiting on the river like her.

The river was everyone’s friend and enemy at the same time.  Schrödinger’s play.  All she needed was the kicker though, and she’d leave with the biggest pot she’d ever seen, on one of the crappier hands she’d ever played.

Small coughs and cleared throats echoed as the players waited for the dealer to flip the last card.  In slow motion, he took it from the top of the deck. With a communal intake of breath, he revealed the glossy print against the fuzzy green table top: ace of spades.

Riley peeked over her cards at her peers and watched fingers tap and brows furrow.  The last round started and two dropped out, leaving her against the Cowboy.

He raised the bet. Riley called, “All in.”