Life Rekindled

 

Life Rekindled

by

Ben Hannigan

 

The  crowd was tight packed and rushed, Callum felt almost crushed, like he could barely breathe. Still, he soldiered on. He hated Christmas shopping, had since his wife died but he had promised her towards the very end of the illness that took her that he would always celebrate.

 So he was here preparing to head to a family Christmas event. It had been six years but he was finally facing the rest of the world during the holidays, rather than staring at his tv with Chinese food in his pj’s, having ordered all his presents online so he didn’t have to speak to anyone or be forced to hear those ghastly false expressions of glad tidings from psaltic salespeople who couldn’t give a fuck about anyone they talked to other than for a tick on the target sheet.

 He stood searching for something for his mother. Lana usually handled all this or he did himself slowly working his way through the list and rather quicker working through the bottle of bourbon by the mouse pad. He finally, after what seemed like hours of searching in a hell of baubles, tinsel and tat, found a small, delicate, white pin that was apparanlty carved out of a whitish wood and trimmed with, a rosewood inlay spiral.

 As he reached for the box he felt the teasing brushing motion of a woman’s hand sliding over his. He paused almost guiltily enjoying the contact as he turned into the touch. Almost buried into his chest by the crush of the crowd was a small woman. Violet hair, five foot tall, bright pink eyes that were obviously contacts, all in a package containing boobs that were probably a thirty two B but looked huge on her frame. “Hey" he said to himself, "I’m a widower not dead." He nodded to her and asked “You want me to delve into this bin of pins and grab you one since I have the display one?”

 

She nodded gratefully, looking flushed and harried before he bent over the edge of the bin and delved. He was always fairly indifferent to the cold and today was no exception.  He was wearing an NFL style jersey, slightly baggy and riding up as he bent over into the barrel showing his toned body and the swirling mix of scars and tattoos that adorned much of his back. She stood admiring the sight as he delved and had to be nudged to realise he had retrieved the pin.

“Sorry just  tired I guess, spaced out.”

 He nodded and waved his hand sagely “It’s this shit that does it, sends people mental.”  Laughing and enjoying the brief moment that broke for just a second the tense nature of the Christmas shopping combat.

 Hours later Callum was stood in the queue. N,o not the queue, this was the tertiary queue, a sort of holding tank for the queue to the queue. Annoyed, he stood and steadily vaped producing a cloud of water vapour which in deference to the season had a heady odour of clove, orange peel, cinnamon and dark chocolate. Whilst being asked by the curious about the electronic cigarette he handed out business cards and talked about the tech whilst revelling in the hateful glares of the evangelical ex-smokers. Whilst enjoying his vape and lazily breathing smoke rings he was startled by a request. “Do the ship that floats through the smoke ring.”

 He laughed and said in response “Do I look like Gandalf?” as he spoke he turned and saw the violet haired girl in the sonic t shirt from earlier. She giggled, and that broke the ice. They started to talk. He was twenty eight, had been married until she got ill, he showed her the rings round his throat, his and hers. His Elrond’s ring of power, Hers Galadrial’s. They chatted about fantasy novels and film and television fitting comfortably in the hour they had to talk. As she paid for her purchases she scrawled a note which had the name of a pub and a time on it and bribed the cashier a fiver to give it to him. He checked out the mix of clothes, cheap kids toys for friends’ kids and the other old standards of present buying before being handed his receipt. Opening the note he read it and was shocked into freezing outside the store entrance. “Do I go? I mean it has been six years and she ordered me to be happy.” praying softly he waited for a sign, what to do which way to go. As he left the shop he heard the opening of the Christmas song that had defined his season as a married man, almost as if it was a preordained order for him to begin moving on and looking to the future.

 Checking the note again he headed to the pub realising if he ran through the crowds he could just about make it. He stopped outside and took a deep breath and had a quick vape to calm his nerves,.Stood by the pub door wondering whether he was doing the right thing. He almost heard her voice in his ear one last time telling him what he had told her before she died, “Be happy and live, if not for you but for me”. That was the last push he needed to open the door. Weirdly the pub was empty but for one person, the girl from earlier. She was sat at a table by the lit fire watching the snow fall outside, he moved past the bar ordered a drink and went to sit down. Over the next few hours they talked and talked, learning each other and just exploring the exciting and the newness of meeting someone and feeling that instant rush of attraction.

 They laughed and talked, and over the hours as the snow fell ate together and moved closer till in the end they were hand in hand as the bell for last orders chimed. Shrugging on their coats they were discussing where to go next when they were faced with the choice being made for them. The new couple slowly struggled with the door, first pulling gently then yanking harder then trying to tap it then pull before the bloke behind the bar came to look. Even with his help it wouldn’t shift. He turned the lights up and then they saw the true issue. The snow had piled up to the point that the door wouldn’t budge and they couldn’t leave.

 

 “Well this solves that question.” Lucy giggled before turning to the barman. “Still have a room spare for tonight?”

 

He nodded laughing a little before digging out the key and grabbing a couple of bottles of beer for himself and sorting a final drink for each of the couple.

 

Heading up the winding stairs they walked together still hand in hand and Callum stood at the door awkwardly. Lucy  plucked both drinks from his hand and returned slyly grinning before pulling him into a deep long rough kiss by his shirt collar and dragging him through the open door, kicking the door shut as she pushed him to the bed ravishing his mouth and running her hands across his body.

 

First Snowfall

              

First Snowfall

by

 Ellie Mack

 It was the first snowfall of the year.   Alex gyrated on the dance floor, moving rhythmically, naturally, to the tempo.  It helped ease the strain the last few weeks had given her and offered a brief respite before going into finals week.  When the first set finished, she moved to the bar, ordering a Long Island. 

She sat sipping her drink, taking in her surroundings for the first time since arriving with her friends. She spotted two of the girls across the room flirting with some cute guys.  She searched for Paula, but didn’t find her roommate .  A man had moved close to her, practically touching her as he ordered  for himself and another round for her. 

“That chemistry test get to you too?  It was a bear for me.”  He tossed out there before taking a sip of his beer.

“She graciously accepted her drink, twirling the straw. “Thanks. It was tough, and I spent a lot of time studying. So very glad that it's  over.  Now to gear up for the comp final.”

They conversed about the class, about other classes they had and tests and term papers due. “What’s your major?”  He asked draining his bottle.

“Microbiology. Yours?”  Alex took a sip and realized she didn’t even know his name.  She’d sat in class with him for a full semester.  He sat just to her left, and smiled at her every day of class. 

“Computer Science”  He turned, looking back towards the dance floor then nervously asked her.  “Hey, you want to get out of here? Take a walk with me?”

“Sure,  it’s a bit stuffy in here anyway.  Just let me text my friends,  ummmm. “  She chewed her lip nervously trying to cover that she didn’t know his name. “I’m having a lapse,  I’m sorry what is your name?”   

“Dave” 

She blushed.  “ I knew that, was just temporarily forgetful.”  She typed it into her text.  “Sorry about that.  You still want me to walk with you?”

He made a light hearted chuckle.  “Of course.  Might give me an opportunity so you’ll not forget my name again.”  He took her hand squeezing it lightly as he led her towards the door. 

They stepped out into the chilled night air, snowflakes instantly covering their heads and shoulders.

She gasped, “Snow!” 

He looked down, it had already covered the ground about two inches. “Guess it’s a good thing we’re leaving now. “ 

“Wow!  I didn’t think it was supposed to snow. “  She twirled in the falling flakes, grinning from ear to ear. 

Dave reached for her hand, as they walked at a relaxed pace back to the campus housing.  “What dorm are you in?”

“I’m in Landon house, second floor.  What about you?”  He seemed so quiet, and reserved.  Alex wondered if he would even try to kiss her.  She wanted him to kiss her, she wanted his arms wrapped around her.  She had only had two dates since arriving on campus fourteen weeks ago, and both were disastrous. She’d glanced at Dave many times in class wondering if he had a girlfriend.

“I’m in McClain quarter, right by Landon.”  He grinned at her. “Just right across the courtyard from you.”

She blushed thinking about all the times she had stared out the window into the courtyard, watching the guys play football.  Watching them play soccer, or just tossing a Frisbee.  She had watched Dave with his friends on more than one occasion. 

As they started up the hill at the edge of campus Alex lost her footing.  The snow packed just enough to make it slick and prevent good traction.  She slid, pulling Dave down with her.  He landed on top of her  with a thud. 

“Oh I’m sorry!  Didn’t mean to fall on you.”   He tried to get up and slipped again.”

She giggled, “Actually my fault.  If I hadn’t pulled you down with me, you’d still be fine.”

Dave grinned.  “Well, as long as I have you pinned here, there’s something I’ve been wanting to do all semester.”  He bent his mouth over hers and kissed her softly. His lips barely making contact with  hers, then pressing firmer until she opened slightly to him.

All the inner fireworks were going off for her.  She hoped that he felt it too. “Mmmm.  I’ve never been kissed so thoroughly. “

They gazed into each other’s eyes for a few moments before she pulled his head back down to hers. 

He groaned, pressing into her.

She giggled, breaking the kiss.  “Race you back to the car. “  She wriggled out from under him and took off at a sprint, laughing. 

He groaned again, as he raced after her.  He caught her just before she reached the car,  grabbing her coat and spinning her.  Both slid together until he had her pinned against the car door.  He pressed into her kissing her deeply.  “Happy Anniversary darling.“  He kissed her deeper, could barely tear away from her.   “Let’s go home baby.  I love re-enacting our first date, but damn you make me hot.” 

His mouth claimed hers as she mewled into him. 

Every year, they re-enacted their first date.  It hadn’t even really been a date.  This was the first year since then that it had been snowing.  Alex beamed as she climbed into the car gazing out the window.  The first snowfall would always be her favorite.   She leaned over and kissed his cheek as he started the car. “Happy Anniversary Honey.”

Lucky Me

Today's guest is Penelope Price.  Penelope writes fantasy, and agreed to take a stab at flash for us. Make sure to leave a comment and let her know how much you appreciate her!



Lucky Me

by

Penelope Price

---------------

 

            I stood before the antler-framed mirror with both hands on the vanity. I was holding on so tight that my knuckles had gone white and my nails were scratching the soft, unfinished pine.

            "Deep breath, Becks, deep breath. You can do this. You. Can. DO. This."

            And I could do this. Even though it was crazy and spontaneous and hysterical and so far from anything I had ever even considered doing before. Right? A tiger can change her spots, right? No wait - that's not right and-

            Knock knock.

            "Need anything, Becca?"

            I grit my teeth and bumped my forehead against the mirror. Damn it. Now he was going to think that I was in here primping and plucking like some high school girl before prom. Or worse, that I was in here pooping.

            "Oh God," I said, groaning under my breath. My fingers dug harder into the vanity. I called out, trying to sound casual. "No, I'll be just a second or two."

            Or three. Or four. I closed my eyes again and tried to relax. But how could I? This whole trip had been one disaster after another! What made me think that this latest escapade would be anything but one more humiliating snafu?

            I came to the mountains five days ago. I was supposed to be celebrating an early Christmas and shared birthday weekend with my big sister - it was a tradition for nearly twenty years. We were born on 12.12 and 12.13, exactly one year apart. DJ and I have been best frenemies all our lives - that word was made for us. We fought over clothes and toys and boys, but in the end we had always had each other's back. And for eighteen years, we had always had this weekend together.

            This year, I had come up a few days early to clear my head and give that rat bastard time to clear his junk out of my house. Three years together. Three! And he just expected me to stand by his side like Hilary Clinton after the Blue Dress Scandal while that slut he cheated with paraded his baby all over Portland. Not a chance.

            Not. A. Chance.

            So I drove up ahead of time armed with wine and music and four spiralbound notebooks, just in case I lost power for my laptop. I figured I would have plenty of time to write this year, since DJ wasn't due until Friday night.

            But, on the first night in the mountains - the familiar, safe, peaceful mountains - my car was stolen. Okay, I told myself, just file a police report. Insurance will probably handle it. Don't freak out, Becca.

            On the second night in the mountains, a freak squall dumped four feet of snow atop an already deep base. Still, I knew I had plenty of food and wine and logs for the fire, so I figured I would be okay.

            Then, on the third night in the mountains, an avalanche on the road below the cabin cut off access stranding DJ down in the village and me up here alone. And on the fourth night in the mountains, as I sat by myself weeping along to a bunch of break-up songs with a bottle of wine, the power went out. Alas, the battery on my laptop lasted longer than the wine and my inebriated fingers sought out a litany of old crushes from high school. Forget drunk texting, I indulged in drunk Facebooking - and that was far worse.

            Because whether it was coincidence or fate or destiny or just sheer dumb luck - something had conspired to put me on the same wintery mountain as the one who got away. Okay - the one who never even knew how much I adored him. The one who never saw my moon-eyed stares, read the sappy poetry I wrote (and then promptly burned!), or felt my fingers run through his long curly black hair - which always felt like ribbons of jet silk in my imagination. But we grew up and graduated and life goes on. Hell, despite my teenage obsession, I had hardly thought of Clint in twenty years. Yet when my wine-soaked brain turned to looking up old flames, and flirting dangerously with them, the first name that came to mind was his.

            Now its the fifth night in the mountains and I am standing here freaking out like I've never kissed a guy before. Why am I so nervous? Because its not just some random guy who came knocking on the cabin door with a big furry dog and a snowmobile. This is Clint. This is the Clint Jones and the last time I was alone with him, I had never kissed a guy before.

            "You've kissed a guy since, lots of guys. Okay, a few. And anyway, he's here, isn't he? Obviously he must want- I mean, he probably wouldn't be here if-" I felt insecurity burbling up inside and stamped my foot once, as if quashing literal representations of my fear. Clint had arrived like a tarnished knight on a rusty old snowmobile hours ago and we had spent the whole time talking, and flirting, and everything had gone marvellously. Then he had leaned across the table to kiss me. I panicked. The next thing I knew, I was in the bathroom staring at this absurd antler-rimmed mirror and second-guessing myself.

            "You're overthinking this, Becca," I told myself, straightening my shirt and giving myself one last glance in the mirror. "Be spontaneous. Be adventurous. Be- oh Hell, stop talking to yourself  and just do it."

            With a emphatic nod, my fingers gripped the door handle and I twisted it. Suddenly, a pair of arms slid around me and lips pressed against mine and all I could see was this warm haze of candlelight. Our tongues touched and I let my hand slide through those wild black curls, the way I had always imagined I would. When at last he let go, my heart was pounding in my chest and it was all I could do to say, "Wow."

            Clint grinned at me and sure, there were crinkles around his eyes and a bit of gray sprinkled into his beard, but for all the world it felt like I was seventeen again. "I've wanted to do that for twenty years."

            "Then do it again." I could not believe that flirty line came from my mouth, but it had.

            And lucky me - he obeyed.

------------------------------

 

Penelope Price: author, gamer, nerd. Though she has been writing since she learned to read, P.P. did not emerge from her coccoon to join the writing circuit until the year of Tangerine Tango. She is the crazy chick behind Incandescence and its sequel, Inferno and can usually be found plotting projects with her partner-in-crime, Jack Morgan.

Get updates, gossip and geekery by following P.P. on Facebook (http://facebook.com/PP_TheWriter), Twitter (http://twitter.com/#!/PP_TheWriter), and at her blog (http://www.penelopeprice.net).

Flash Prompts

Fiction writers often need a prompt to get started.  Sometimes the ideas flow, but sometimes it's like the Sahara desert - dry and desolate.  You may want to consider using prompts if you have tried your hand at fiction, or if you want to try. Prompts can kickstart your creativity.  It can be a single word, a phrase, a complete paragraph or even a picture, with the idea being it gives you something to focus on so the creativity can begin. Sometimes you end up with disjointed notes but other times you end up with a fluid piece or even something that develops into a complete story. the point is, it "prompts" you to start writing.


Sometimes it’s hard to start writing when the blank page is staring you down.  That blinkng curser on the white screen can be terrifying.  Setting a timer for a set time like ten minutes or so can unclog the block. You may find that if you stop trying to think  about what you wanted to write and switch you attention to a prompt instead, the words and ideas for your original piece start to come to you after all.

The things you write from a prompt may also end up as worthwhile material.  This is one of the quickest ways to produce flash fiction, from prompts.  It’s often surprising how much material you come up with once you start.

Writing to a prompt regularly helps to get you into the habit of writing. This can act as a sort of exercise regime, helping to build up your “muscles” so that you start to find it easier and easier to write for longer and longer.  I typically use prompts about once a week to stoke the fires.

Prompts can be a great way to get involved in a writing community. Sometimes groups offer a prompt for everyone to write about, with the intention being for everyone to come up with something they can then share. This can be a source of great encouragement, and also a source of entertainment.  Prompts are great to come up with a humorous story. 


In December we are going to have a flash fest!  We are inviting our readers to participate.  Here are 25 prompts to get you started on your piece of 500 to 1000 words. 

1. It was the first snowfall of the year.
2. He hadn’t seen her since the day they graduated from High School.
3. The city burned, fire lighting up the night sky.
4. Silk.
5. She studied her face in the mirror.
6. She loved the smell of leather.
7. They came back every year to the place it all began.
8. The streets were deserted. Where was everyone?
9. This time he had gone too far.
10. bloodshot eyes
11. Stars blazed in the night sky.
12. He woke to winter's chill.
13. ‘Shh! Hear that?’
14. He’d always hated the parade.
15. She woke, shivering, in the dark of the night.
16. The dead stalks poked out from the snow.
17. She sipped her coffee, watching the Cardinal through the tears.
18. She cried, kicking the flat tire.  She'd never get home by Christmas.
19. ‘I told him never come back!’
20. His feet were already numb. He should have listened.
21. She chewed her lips waiting for his plane to arrive.
22. red satin
23. The thermos of cocoa was tucked in the basket next to the ring.
24. It just wasn't the same this year  without...
25. She lifted the lid on the box and found, laying innocuously on the sparkling tissue paper, a negligee...

Send your submissions to:  redhotmama1982@hotmail.com; put 'Storytime flash' submission in the subject line.