A Break-up

An Unfinished Story

Hello Busyness,

I just wanted to tell you that I do not appreciate how not so busy you’ve kept me these past few weeks. I hate to break it you, but this thing, you and I, isn’t working for me. I’m not getting anything done. You know the last chapter we wrote, chapter nine I think, or was it ten? Well, it’s been so long that I don’t recall. I showed up at different hours of the day and night to create, but you, you were nowhere in sight. You have not met up with me for months. That’s why I’ve stopped writing.

Someone took your place. Do you recall, Nothing, that strange fellow that looks like Rip Van Winkle? You know, the one who sits at the corner? Well, he brought me coffee and kept me company as I waited for you. It doesn’t feel good to be abandoned like this. I’m beginning to think it’s my fault. But I know better. Yet questions swim in my head. Why did you leave? Did I do something wrong? What did I not do? Where have you gone? Will you return?

Anyway, since you haven’t been present in my world, my unwanted lost friend, Procrastination, moved in. To be perfectly truthful and you can tell her if you like, I don’t care for her style, not at all. She comes in saying, “We’ll have so much fun now that your boyfriend hasn’t come around.” We played games, watched movies, looked up friends in social media. Rabbit Trail and Intrigued come over and hang out with us. When they show up, hours pass like minutes. 

It isn’t that I didn’t have fun but it’s not giving me anymore of that thrill it did in the beginning. I’ve been telling Procrastination that my guy friend, Fitness, who needs a project subject, invited me to help him out. I’ve been working on being punctual on a regular basis to this job, but even that is not long lasting. It just a bunch of bull-sweat. 

So therefore, I’m writing this note to tell you, that I’m leaving you for good. I’m going to be calling on my   friend, Reliance, who pushes me off cliffs. Which I seem to be on one right now. I need to jump off and fly. I need to arrive at my aunt’s, Accomplishment’s place to finish my story. Or I’m afraid, I’ll find myself going back and asking Procrastination for advice on how to join her new favorite miniseries, Tic-Tok. At least I’ll start something new.

For now, I’ll sip my coffee and keep Nothing company as we share this moment of nothingness.

Good-bye Busyness, it was sweet while it lasted. 

Your X-girlfriend, Unaccomplished 

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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

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

 

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.