HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Here is a Halloween treat!
A flash fiction story from Flash Fiction Addition Volume II

Always be careful what you wish for...you just might get it.

SWEET HELL

He didn't have a pitchfork, or horns and he wasn't even red. I had no idea who he was until he asked me if I wanted to make a deal; I laughed. Even though his appearance was misleading, and his approach was certainly cliché, I was convinced enough to tell him I'd think it over.

I can't say I wasn't shocked, it's not every day you get that kind of offer. And I must say that I was very surprised by his demeanor; cool and enticing, and he was actually quite handsome. I chuckled at the pun; such a handsome devil.

He said he could put an end to my suffering; that I could finally have what I had wanted for years.

But I wasn't so sure I wanted to make a deal with...him. I couldn't even say it. It went against everything I had been brought up to believe in, and yet somehow, I couldn't resist the urge to hear him out. Did he really want my soul? It actually seemed kind of silly, and yet, I knew he was actually who he said he was. I could feel it. There was an electricity about him, and yes, dare I say, a fire.

He had a contract all ready for my signature. Nothing in blood, no grand ritual, just a pen for me to sign on the dotted line. He said I could take a few days, read it over. I could even have a lawyer look over it if I wanted. He seemed to find that idea a very amusing one indeed.

There was a lot of technical wording, legalese I didn't understand, but the bottom line was this: I could have Cullen. Cullen Markham, the only man I had ever loved, only he didn't love me. Basically, this would mean that I could be with him whenever I wanted. All I needed to do was to imagine him, and he would appear before me. But for every minute I spent with my beloved, I would also spend a minute in hell. Literal hell; fire and brimstone and demons and torture. He painted a very clear picture of it; or rather he planted a good picture of it, right inside my mind, I could almost feel my skin burning. I shuddered.

And then... he brought Cullen to me. And my skin was burning again, but this time from sensuous kisses. His mouth upon mine and ecstasy before unknown, all in a matter of seconds. And then Cullen was gone.

The deal maker smiled and handed me the pen and I literally signed my life away.

And then, there was Cullen; because I had thought of him, because I had wanted him, because I had made a deal with the devil, he appeared before me.

He knelt down, taking my hand and kissing it. He held it to his face, and he whispered my name. Tears flowed from my eyes, looking down upon him, knowing that at long last, he was mine. I pulled him up to me, my lips seeking his, enjoying slow hot sensual kisses for what seemed like an eternity. And it was. A lifetime in a flash, my time with Cullen was over.

And now I am burning in a different way. Day and night, with only a faint remembrance of what it was like to be with my cherished love. Now I will spend forever on fire, the flames crackling against my skin, burning my flesh; leaving no scars, because there is never any healing. The smell of sulfur permanently saturating my every pore, and no tears to cry. This is my payment for loving him; and what I now must endure. My sweet hell.

Loss

You never said you loved me. You never said you cared.

At least you never lied.

I'm the one that lied when I bled for you. You never knew.

I laid out my heart in words you never understood.

Then you went away.

I waited. I cried. And then I waited some more.

I did it all for you, every word, every thought, every feeling inside my heart.

But you left anyway.

You are out there now. Somewhere.

With her. Or maybe it's a him. I don't know. You would never share that with me.

Never with me.

I wanted to see you being free. I wanted it to be with me.

But you didn't want it. You didn't want me.

Then I felt nothing.

I couldn't stop it; I bled for you. Cutting deep into my flesh so that I could feel something.

Anything.

And then that day, I saw you again, and I felt something, finally.

It was loss.

And I knew that would never be enough.

Not for me, and certainly not for you.

It didn't make you stay, and it didn't make me stop.

You weren't even there when they came to take me away.

I cried out for you. I screamed your name and you never even knew.

It's okay. I am safe now. Safe from myself. Locked away behind cold walls.

They watch me almost constantly. Monitoring my every waking moment.

But they cannot take my thoughts.

Even now, I still dream of you; I still see your face every time I close my eyes.

And inside my mind, I still feel the loss of you.

Sometimes they are careless and I live for those moments.

When I can let go of the ache as the blood flows freely from my veins once again.

The memory of you is a constant torment;

A cutting sickness I will always crave.

I will never be free from this place; nor from you.

You are my darkest secret and the reason for my scars.

I love you; and it means nothing.

©2013 Garden Summerland

Mended

You mended my broken heart with just a word. 

Without even knowing it was broken. Without knowing that I was broken. 

You smiled at me, and inside, deep inside where no one is ever allowed, I let you in. 

You told me that in time, everything was going to be okay. 

And then I knew that I was capable of loving someone again, because that's the moment I fell in love with you.

But it was never going to be enough. Not for you, never for you. 

You hated that I worshiped you; you never wanted to be my god. 

And then it began; the seed of hatred was sown. 

And now looking back upon that first day, that first day when you mended me and changed my world for the better, all I have are regrets. 

How quickly love can change into hate. And now I am broken again, because we are broken. 

And there is no one to mend me.

©2013 Garden Summerland

 

The Last Time

"Are you seriously that much of a controlling bastard? You can't even let me have an opinion that differs from yours?" I stepped towards him, taunting him further. I could see the anger flooding into his brain as his face contorted into an malicious grimace. I stood motionless; waiting. He paused dramatically and rolled up the sleeves of his striped button-down shirt. He always wore dress shirts; he made me press them on Saturday afternoons when I should have been out with my friends.

"You little bitch..." He hissed at me and I closed my eyes. Waiting.

Then I felt his hand come across the side of my face, cruel and unyielding. I counted to myself; one, then two. And then I laughed. He had done exactly as I'd expected.

I had braced myself, so it hadn't knocked me to the floor like it normally did. I stood firm, staring at him with unfeeling eyes that for once weren't filling with tears. I didn't even flinch.

He was caught off guard, and I waited for yet another moment, then I brought my arm around and leveled the gun at him. Pointed it right at his head and cocked it. I didn't wait for him to speak. I'd taken his abuse since my mother had passed fourteen years ago. And every day since, I'd swore that this day would come; that one day he'd touch me and it would be the last time.

I squeezed the trigger and he dropped to the floor. The recoil jammed my wrist. It wasn't the first time I'd sustained injury because of him, but it was damn sure the last. 

 ©2013 Garden Summerland

Latest Release!

I just wanted to let everyone know that my latest release, Flash Fiction Addiction: 22 Short Short Stories Volume III is now available on Smashwords, Amazon and Barnes & Noble!! It will also be coming out as a single volume in print and in addition all three collections will eventually be combined into a single book. Also watch Sony & Kobo as it will be released on those as well.
This will be the last volume in this series, but definitely not my last collection of flash fiction.  I am currently working on a sequel to my YA novel Sister Sugar as well as two novellas, an adult vampire novel and I am always, always writing flash! Please check back often, as I hope to be updating the blog with MORE micro-fiction & regular flash fiction stories!

Thank you to all of you that have supported me & encouraged me along the way! I appreciate you all!

Have a Heart

"Paul always said you had his heart, and now you do...literally." Spencer held a pink wrapped box with a big red bow on it close to his chest. "Here ya go Lily... enjoy." He dropped the box onto the table and smirked. I felt bile rising in my throat. This was insane... Spencer was insane. I tried to speak, but nothing came out. It couldn't be true... it just couldn't. Paul was dead because he had loved me; because Spencer was jealous. Spencer had gone berserk and cut out Paul's heart, and boxed it up like it was some demented Valentine gift. I stood helpless as Spencer turned and walked casually out the door.

I raced out of the room down corridors that seemed to never end, frantically chasing after him, but he was gone.

I dropped to my knees and started screaming. My chest was tight and I couldn't catch my breath.

I was gasping for air and it woke me up.

It was a dream; it was just a dream. I cried in relief.

I sat up and rubbed my eyes, looking around the room, blinking repeatedly, making sure I was awake. And then I saw it. A pink box with a bright red bow was sitting on my desk next to my laptop; a small card dangled from the side. I could see the meticulously neat black print from across the room:

Have a heart.

©2013 Garden Summerland

Mine

"I hate pink and purple mother, don't put those in there."

She pretended not to hear me as she kept arranging pink tipped roses and ugly purple flowers into a vase.

"No!" It seemed like I was screaming at her, but the silence between us remained unbroken. She wouldn't look at me, she wouldn't speak to me. She acted as though all the decisions were hers, like I wasn't involved in any of it. But it was my day. Mine.

I tried another tactic. I spoke softly, almost in a whisper.

"Please mom, just this once, can't you do it like I want. Just white flowers, that looks tacky." I wanted something elegant and understated; something simple.

She turned towards me; yes, I had gotten through to her. I smiled briefly. And then I watched in disbelief as she carried the arrangement right past me. I lunged for the flowers and they slipped right through my fingers.

I lay on the ground helpless, watching as my mother bent down to place the arrangement on the headstone. It was my headstone. Mine.

  ©2013 Garden Summerland

Delivery

I ran my fingers across the large red cross and the raised black lettering on the plate glass double doors.

"Templar Industries"

I counted the people at the front desk; seven of them. I couldn't risk being recognized. Slinking back into the shadows, I leaned up against the granite building clutching the two cardboard boxes.

I waited almost twenty minutes before peering through the glass again. I saw Barrett standing at the front desk giving instructions to one of the interns. He patted the young blonde assistant on the rear and she scurried into one of the offices giggling. As she closed the door, I entered and casually made my way through the lobby to the reception area. I set the boxes of pizza on the black marble counter and waited.

He held out a twenty.

I shook my head. "That's not gonna cover it."

He looked puzzled and I nodded my head towards the conference room. He glanced down the hallway cautiously then followed me inside, gently closing the door behind him. I ran my hand along the roughness of the stacked stone wall, amazed at the extravagant amenities; an indoor rock garden and a fireplace. Probably a jacuzzi somewhere.

"Vivian, what the hell are you doing?" He sounded angry.

"I had to see you. And, ah...I figured everybody orders pizza, so here I am. And now... you have to pay me."

His face broke into a smile and he playfully stuck out his tongue.

"Don't do that unless you intend to use it."

"Oh I do..." He grabbed me and kissed me long and hard; just enough to leave me gasping for breath as he pulled away.

"Is that enough?" he asked gazing into my eyes; hypnotizing me.

I paused for a moment, "maybe just a little more."

 ©2013 Garden Summerland

Micro Fiction Challenge III

Third time's a charm! I am become quite familiar and somewhat comfortable with writing different length micro-fiction stories. It is the perfect way to share with everyone the short scenes that come to me out of the blue. This one is 200 words exactly. Enjoy! 

The Mark

I followed him through the bar and out the back into the alley, tugging at my too short dress. I'd forgotten to grab my coat and I shivered as the wind hit my bare legs. I leaned against the brick wall and struggled to light a cigarette. I took a long drag and pushed my skirt up on my thighs as his eyes traveled the length of my body and then back again. I smiled seductively and held out my room key.

"I don't think we'll be needing that." He slapped the key out of my hand and pulled me against him. I forced him face down onto the pavement, twisted his arm behind his back and with my knee shoved into his spine I handcuffed him.

"You have the right to remain silent..." My voice trailed off into laughter. I never could get it all out. "Come get him boys." I shouted out to the shadows.

The three of them came out of hiding. My brothers; partners in crime.

They took his watch and his rings, his wallet and his Italian shoes. I asked them not to leave any marks on his face. He was too pretty for that.

 ©2013 Garden Summerland

Micro Fiction Challenge II

In my last blog post, I ventured for the very first time into "micro-fiction" with a story of exactly 50 words, entitled "Lies". And although I am accustomed to writing much longer pieces, albeit still very short stories, I could not resist the temptation to have one more go at story-telling in such a severely abridged form. I am not saying this is my last micro-fiction for this blog, it is just my latest.

So here it is, a story with a word count on the higher end of the micro-fiction spectrum; it comes in at exactly 300 words. I hope you enjoy it. 

 The Last Weekend

 

Snow fell in soft clumps onto the mountain road as cars came to a gradual stand still. Inside, Andie shivered as she wiped the moisture from the cabin window and watched the last of the guests packing their bags into massive SUV's. She and Kevin were always the last ones to leave, even after the kitchen staff. She would do the linens, the vacuuming, and set everything up for the next weekend. Kevin would secure the out buildings and police the grounds, locking up snowmobiles and ski equipment. Afterward, he would come in cold and hungry. She knew he would be in no hurry to join the others departing back to the city; he hated it there, he was a country boy at heart. He had no one waiting for him back at home, and even though she did, she wasn't particularly eager to leave either.

Finally the traffic began to dissipate. She heaved a sigh of relief as the tail lights of the last car faded into the distance. She turned to ask Kevin if he'd like to stay for the night, when suddenly he leapt from behind her and held a knife held to her throat as his other arm slid around her waist.

She tried to scream, but nothing came out. They were all alone; there was no one to save her. He dragged her over in front of the fireplace and shoved her down. She was shaking with fear and anticipation. He paced back and forth in front of her, waving the knife wildly in the air.

Andie sobbed uncontrollably.

"Why? Kevin...why are you doing this?"

He picked up an envelope from the coffee table. He opened it and fanned out the money inside.

"Your husband is very wealthy Andie. And I intend on earning this."

©2013 Garden Summerland

Pictures via Flickr ~ The Library of Congress & Keene and Cheshire County Historical 

Micro Fiction Challenge

Hello Everyone! 

I normally write flash fiction stories that are 1000 words or less. Recently,  I was challenged to try my hand at "micro fiction", which I understand is usually 100 to 200 words or less, although as with flash fiction, there is no "industry standard", as there are varying word counts that qualify as "micro fiction".

Apparently, there is also a market for even shorter fiction stories, such as "Six Word" stories, and "50 Words Exactly" micro-fiction.

Today, I have attempted my very first "50 Words Exactly" micro-fiction. I must admit, it is harder than I thought it would be, and took a little longer than I'd imagined. It isn't something that I plan to do on a regular basis, but as a writer, it's always good to try new things, and it did give my creativity a kick-start. 

I suppose I will dabble a bit with micro-fiction, but the main idea behind this particular blog is a much longer story, and that will be my primary focus. But don't be surprised if you see a micro story pop up now and again.

So, here it is, in all it's succinct glory. I hope that you enjoy it!

LIES

Deirdre stood in the icy rain and watched as Matthew got into the taxi and rode away into the night and out of her life; forever. An hour ago, they had been in bed together. Then she'd told him the truth. She wished she had lied. Lies are always better.

©2013 Garden Summerland