Hungry for Pizza and a Relationship – Flash Fiction

IPhoto by Christian Mackie on Unsplash

Hungry for food and a relationship, I sat in my car holding a piece of wet paper with the words, come to dinner. I studied the note. Strange, there’s no name. I don’t recognize the handwriting. Could it be the new neighbor down the hall from me?

A tap on my window startled me. I looked up. A man bent over motion for me to roll the window down. My heart seemed to beat out of my chest. It’s him. I cracked the window opened.

“Did you get my note? “The new neighbor asked.

Entranced by his lite brown eyes, I lifted the yellow paper and nodded my head.

“I didn’t see you at my party and realized I had forgotten to put time and place. Will you join me? Or do you need to go somewhere?”

“Pizza. Have craving for pizza.” The words slipped from my mouth.

“From Antonio’s?”

“Yes.”

“I ordered some. Save your bucks and come.” His smiled.

I rolled up the window. We both ran inside the building. I shook the rain off my raincoat before entering his apartment. The aroma of basil, cheese and tomatoes, my favorite pizza, made my stomach grumbled.

With an empty plate, I stood by the table waiting my turn. I looked for him. He hung my coat next to his. Hope entered my heart. I reached for a slice of pizza. Is this his favorite too?

Thin fingers took the piece, I had my eyes on.

 “By the way, I’m Mat and this is my girlfriend, Unzi.” He towered her small frame.

Deflated, I took a slice of pizza then said, “Unzi, you took the one, I had my eyes on.”

“We must have the same taste,” Unzi responded.

Gazing at Mat I said, “Apparently we do.”

Written for Roger Shipp’s Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner challenge 31st August. 299 words

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Flash Fiction – My Busybody Daughter

Alice, my busybody, imaginative, six-year-old placed a metal cross, a smash Twinkie and an empty wine bottle on the counter when she arrived home.

The vague items propelled me to ask, “Where did you get these things?”

“Father Don said,Jesus can’t be found.” I looked for clues by the clubhouse and the Burger drive-thru. Where people yell, Jesus, all the time. Someone kidnapped him.” She stood a dinosaur by the cross. “I saved him from the Holy Water after my” Alice whispered, “absolution.”

“Hmm, I see.” Filled with curiosity, I asked, “Did you find who took Jesus?”

Alice squealed, “I did. A sticker on a car had, “Jesus is with me.” Here’s the tags,” she grabbed my hand. “Let’s go rescue Him. You call dad at the police station and ask for the address. I will write it down. Dad can meet us there with the swat team.”

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In search of prompts to exercise my brain, I found a challenge to use the ten bolded words in a flash fiction of 150 words or less. Then before I could pinged it, I shut the sight. Then, I can’t find the blog.

Daily Prompt ~ Partake

At a restaurant, downtown Seattle, I frozen like a pillar. I stood by a small table which had a hand-size cake, a rose and a candle. A thought crossed my mind, If only he could join me.

“Please sit. Let me take your coat. Go ahead, take a plate and serve yourself a slice.  The red velvet cake is luscious, melting at the close of your lips. I will return with coffee.” I followed the instructions from the soft-spoken server, whose eyes never met mine.

Low melodious piano music played in the background. I looked behind me. White doors swung. The only other person in the restaurant was gone.

In a room filled with white cloth-covered tables, I sat alone, waiting only on myself to enjoy an exquisite moment of my favorite dessert. The single red rose and a small flicker candle in a Crystal glass accompanied my order. Shadows from the candle dance on the cloth to the rhythm of the hope in my heart. One day, he, who loves me, would join me here.

Without a thought, I slid my fork in the velvet cake, took a bite and closed my eyes. The cake did melt at the closing of my lips.

Slowly I opened my eyes. Then I realized, a moose stood in my backyard and my coffee was yet to be brewed.  I took a bite of my sliced toasted, buttered, rye bread in my hand and my daydream melted like snow on a warm spring day.

I thought to myself, one can always partake of a dream and escape the ordinary Alaska life.

Fictional Story

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From: night garden — MYMonkey MIND ( MYMM)

Think in the morning. Act in the noon. Eat in the evening. Sleep in the night. William Blake

via night garden — MYMonkey MIND ( MYMM)

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MYMonkey MIND’s posts send my creativity to a place where fictional story clips come alive. Here’s a flash fiction story which developed from the painting above.

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On a dark and gray day, she entered my coffee shop refreshing the atmosphere like a spring bouquet. Her brown hair framed her oval face and her marble light brown eyes shined with delight. She didn’t appeared any older than twenty-nine.

With every move she made, strokes of blush, silky rose printed on my black, mourning heart.

She placed her order, medium, coconut milk latte.

The cup I held shook. I cleared my throught, then asked. “Your name?”

With a smile and her right eye-brow raised she said, “Margie.”

As I wrote on the cup, I thought, have I met her before?

With her coffee in hand she made her way to the door, stopped and took a sip. A soft yellow light enter my shop. Her silhouette defined  her curves.

A shiver came over me as if wet snow had splashes on my bare chest. There for a second, her frame reminded  me of my lat wife, gone for a year.

Margie turned around, tilted her head and said, “I’ll return tomorrow, same time for the same latte order.”

My heart fluttered like a bird inside my chest. Life pump back into my thirty-five year old body as if I was a teen again. A desire see Margie tomorrow caused my hands to sweat. The longing for my high-school sweetheart diminished as the stranger walked away.

Dr. Hide and His Play Mate

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(Fictional Story)

He sneezed on our hamburgers and fries.

I handed him a napkin and pushed my food aside.

He placed the scrunched napkin on the table and passed me a note.

I read, while he finished his rosemary flavored fries.

I’m breaking up with you. My therapist confirmed, my allergies worsen since I met you. Your hypersensitivity gave me an uncontrollable itch and a rash that will not go away. You know where. Without moving my head, I glance at him.

He slurped his drink, sniffled and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.

I reposition my body, faced away from him and continued to read, Your moodiness has left me susceptible to loneliness which has given me sleepless nights and my performance at work has declined.

He stretched his arm and yawned as he tilted back his chair.

I kept reading. Your need to bathe at night and shower in the morning, daily, has wiped my immune system with every illness known by my mother. Therefore, you must move out, then I can heal from your weirdness and get healthy again.

Carefully, I folded the note in the same way he had it, gave it to him, pushed myself away from the table, took out my hand sanitizer and stared at his pale face. Yes, I am a bit OCD. It worsen on my first year of practicing medicine. Which happened to be the same time I began to work with Dr. Hide. He kept asking me out and I kept letting him down easy. He was uptight in the surgery room and way too loose outside the OR for me.

With my arms folded, I said, “Stephen, I’ve put up with you long enough. Playing along with your fantasy world has gone to far. I agree to have lunch with you because, we are both professional adults.” I stood up and handed him my notice.

He opened the letter, read it, then screamed, “What? You can’t leave me. I’m moving out. Didn’t you read my note?”

The hospital cafeteria went numbly silent.

With a poised and calmed voice, I said, “Dr. Hide, I want to make it perfectly clear. We, never lived together only worked in the same room while I played along with your fictional plots. Now, you have to find another anesthesiologist who will play along with your make-believe stories. Maybe your therapist or your mother can help you find the one who can cure you from all the diseases I caused you.” I turn around and left my letter of resignation with the chief brain surgeon. Whom, I had actually fallen very fond of and his quirky games.

As I walked down the hallway, I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder. I glanced behind me. Stephen knelt on the floor.

I faced him.

With both hands behind him, he said, “Marissa, please, don’t leave me. You have been my favorite play mate.”

I dashed to him. “Dr. Please get up. You are embarrassing me.” I felt sweat beats forming on my forehead.

On one knee, he brought before him a blown up glove and said, “Will you marry me?”

A ring hung from the glove. Nurses, doctors and patients watched with elated expressions. Oos and awes seem to synchronized with the beeping heart monitor.

I said, “What took you so long.”

He stood up.

We hugged.

He whispered, “So, you will stay?”

With a smile I responded. “I never was going away.”

“Oh, you got me. You got me good. I was scared that you were truly leaving me to face my unorthodox behavior all alone.” He chuckled and turned beat read.

“Never, as  long as I can start bathing at night and showering in the morning.”

“Can I join you?”

We kissed.

Everyone laughed and applauded.

Letting Go Made Room For Insecurities

Fiction: Short Story Thursday

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Slowly, his fingers slide between mine. My body melted in his embrace. Unwilling, my lips left his. My boyfriend held my face and whispered, “I must go.” He neared, nibbled my ear, then said, “I’ll call you.” He pulled away.

Speechless, I stare into his brown eyes.

He took a step back, blew me a kiss and got in his car.

My lips trembled. My heart raced. I couldn’t speak. Don’t go.

With his Volkswagen packed, he drove away.

His promise, “I’ll call you” splashed on my soul like an ice-cold shower, awakening insecurities. What if he doesn’t call? What if he never return? What if he meets another girl in grad school? Why didn’t I say, I love you?  Tears draped my eyes, I tightened my fists. His hands no longer in mind. I grasped the hope that he will come back and I will not be abandoned.  Continue reading Letting Go Made Room For Insecurities

Alaska’s Solstice Sunrise

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Morning unveiled an elegant cold fire gown across the Alaskan Sky.

In no time, Day began and Sky placed its winter, silvery-gray cloud coat back on.

Night rushed on the scene, stole Sky’s coat, exposing  Sky’s naked dar-blue depth.

Stars twinkled announcing, Tomorrow brings a new gown and all Alaskans will witness the glow of the Alaskan Sky again.

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When The Sky Fell

The Sky Fell – (Fictional Story)

 

The front screen door slammed. Stella-Nena, a five-year-old said, “I like that sound, don’t you Meme?” It tells me, no flies will enter my home.”20171006_011958.jpg

 

Her grandmother didn’t respond or looked her way, only stared at the unplanted field as she sat on her rocking chair.

 

Without a care, Stella-Nena climbed on a rickety rocking chair next to her grandmother and flipped her sandals off. One flew off the porch. “Oh, well,” she commented as she scooted back and folded her legs like a pretzel.

 

About to take a bit of the cookie in her hands, she stopped and said, “I almost forgot. I got one for you.” She leaned towards her grandmother and placed a cookie in her opened hand.

 

With her eyes fixed in the same direction as her grandmother, Stella-Nena began to talk. “Meme, the sky fell on me this morning and it knocked me down on my rump. I’m glad God works fast. He already placed it back where it belongs.” She nibbled on her cookie and rocked.

 

Her grandmother picked a chocolate chip off her cookie, placed it in her mouth, then asked, “The sky fell? How?”

 

With her light brown eyes, Stella-Nena looked at her grandmother and said, “I stood on the counter. I reached for the cookie jar on top of the refrigerator and-” she lifted her two small arms up in the air. “-the sky just fell. I don’t know how. But, stars swam all around me as I sat on the floor.”

 

“You fell?” Her grandmother faced saddened.

 

“Stella-Nena, where are you? And why are all the PTA cookies scattered all over my kitchen floor?” The five-year-old’s mother hollered.

 

With her other little hand, Stella-Nena patted her Grandmother’s wrinkly hand and said, “Meme remember, the sky fell on me. You must get the story straight. Okay? I want to become a legend like you. I’m not ready to die.”

 

Her grandmother smiled and said, “Yes, my little angel.”20171010_004316.jpg

 

 

Gorged Yet Starving

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Late as always and gorged with an attitude, she stomped into the classroom sinking the chatter of the six-grade class.

While everyone stared, she straightened her lopsided, messy ponytail and strolled to the back carrying her lunch in a crumbled, brown, paper sack.

I, the teacher, passed out test results and said, “Students, get ready for the day and please begin today’s task.” I then handed the girl her exam.

With her paper in hand, she gave me a smile, wiped a leftover tear, and tuck the achievement in her stained, old school bag.

Her lip slant told me she accepted her healthy grade, but the dark ring under her eyes and missing sock revealed a starving ten-year-old fragile soul.