What We Don’t Remember – Fiction

Time again for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.  So grateful to PJ for hosting this weekly challenge. This week’s photo prompt is provided by Mark with @any1mark66. Thank you,  Mark!

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Here is the photograph and my story:

What We Don’t Remember

“Cindy.”  The Inspector smiled at me. Perhaps he was expecting a smile in return – one I did not give him. “Thank you for waiting,” he said.

And well he should be thankful, too. I’d waited, as he’d asked, for 10 minutes in a room with no windows, colored in hues of beige and a slightly darker beige.

I was tired from the day trip my senior group had taken. We’d stopped at one of those road stop places. The sort that sells saltwater taffy and carved statues of local animals. This particular one had a lime green alien statue welcoming visitors to the shop.

“Is there anything else you remember about the child?” the inspector asked me.  Apparently, a child had gone missing about the same time our senior van arrived at the road stop.

And that’s when I started crying. I wanted to remember, but I couldn’t.

Ellespeth

A Discovery In The Middle Of The Night – Diary Entry

Image result for depression

A Discovery In The Middle Of The Night

This is an update on my Feb 7 fall and broken right side of body injury. It is a Vente Vent. Unless you want to know me better, you are allowed not to read this.

I’ve laid awake – most nights lately – trying to visualize a way I can use my laptop and continue my blogging and:
1) Not have my wrist touch anything hard and/or not soft around the edges
2) Not have my elbow touch anything hard
3) Align my back so that it is comfortable with this
4) Be sure the arm spread and the back thing align
5) Keep my right leg elevated above my heart

Hahaha! Piece of cake. I’ve cheated on the elevation part but not by much. And so, aren’t you lucky, here I am once again.

I’ve considered leaving WordPress. If I can’t keep up with people, whatz the point? But, I want to stay and see my way through this with people following my recovery and my writing and my life. I guess in that order.

Most of my energy is going into my recovery from tripping on a child’s tiny bristle block. I feel I need to write more about that and how depressed I’ve become from being homebound and hounded with medical care.

I don’t want to have a meltdown here but…I sense one approaching.

This is all my wrist will take today.  I’m hoping to submit a piece to FFAW tomorrow.  ‘We’ll’ see.

Ellespeth

Sweet Elise – Fiction

Time again for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.  So grateful to PJ for hosting this weekly challenge.   This week’s photo prompt is provided by The Magicsticgoldenrose. Thank you for our photo prompt!

Please follow little froggy for more stories.

Here is the photograph and my story:

Sweet Elise

Remember when she passed for white? Not that she knew it. Of course she didn’t know it. But then it started passing around her Ivy League sorority…  The Homecoming Queen had something to hide.

The Homecoming game was, as anticipated, won by the home team. As their Queen, after the game, she threw pink and red and white rose petals onto the field. She was lovely. So beautiful and regal. A prize for any man who’d claim her. Until…

Later…  “Move away, now! Move away!” ordered the campus police. They were waiting for  local enforcements to arrive.

She’d remained untouched since her body had been found in her dorm room. Gold safety pins, holding good bye notes, were attached to her homecoming gown. One in particular came to muddy the day:

“So much more I wanted for thee and me, love…Sweet Elise.”

Ellespeth

One Open Moment – Poem w/Some Prose

Here is the poem encompassing the feeling tone of my novel.  I’ve written three paragraphs.  I could be onto something.  🙄

I’m 4 months into recovery from a serious fall.  It’s slow and painful.  I’ve had to put away my manual typewriter and begin to use this laptop more  😞  Something about punching down the keys on the manual was keeping my arm in pain.  I’m not sure I can master the voiced typing whatever thingy.  It still doesn’t recognize my voice.

One Open Moment

I remember
the sounds of crickets on the bayou
and moonlight shining through moss
making lace patterns
on the window shade.

I remember your moist lips against my cheek
and that little wave
you always gave
to tell me
see you later.

Where are you?
How could our world
just open
and steal you away like it did?

Ellespeth

At The Corner of Lust and Desire – Fiction

Time again for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.  So grateful to PJ for hosting this weekly challenge.   Thank you Yinglan for our photo prompt!

Please follow little froggy for more stories.

Here is the photograph and my story:

At The Corner of Lust and Desire

When it comes to planning our family’s summer vacations, I can always count on Mom.  Like the summer we visited ‘famous cities and their streetcars’.  One such streetcar,  on our itinerary,  was even named Desire. The one you never want to be seen stepping in or out of,  at 17,  no matter who you’re with.

“But Mom,”  I protested,  “I will not get on that streetcar. Why,  the name of it makes me blush.”

“It’s a streetcar,  Kayla,  and the name of the street it used to run on.” It was mid-July, in New Orleans. Mom threw me a side glance that could have killed. “Don’t make a scene, Kayla,” she pleaded.  “Let’s not add linguistic phobia to our vacation list of things to avoid.”

“Oh my!”  I adjusted my sunglasses,  smiled,  and took in the guy who’d just boarded Desire.  I watched his eyes sweep over me.  “Okay, Mom, whatever you say.”

Ellespeth

Sugared Aloe Tips – Fiction

Time again for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.  So grateful to PJ for hosting this weekly challenge.   This week’s photo prompt is provided by loniangraphics

Please follow little froggy for more stories.

Here is the photograph and my story:

Sugared Aloe Tips

The first time the doctor took my cast off, I cried. Whose dead and shedding leg skin was that staring back and mocking me?

“OMG!” I wailed. “My skin is forever changed!”

“Oh don’t worry about that part,”  said some gum chomping medical assistant.  Her hair was a popular shade of purple.   She wore a nose ring and had several layers of earrings on each ear.

“But my skin!” I protested.  My skin!  The softest part of me you’d always claimed.

“Don’t worry about that now honey. Skin’ll grow back softer and stronger when you rub a little aloe and sugar on it now and then.”

But I did worry.  Like any other woman would worry.  I’d spent a lifetime taking care of my skin.  Making it that soft barrier between leather and silk.

Ellespeth