Table For Two

Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….

 Copyright –   Dale Rogerson

We were young once.

I can’t really remember how it felt, but it must have been better than how all these years on my shoulders feel. The face in the mirror avoids me and I am trying to decide if I am bothered by what I see.

It sneaked upon me yesterday…the realization I stopped crying. I am afraid our memories will start to slip away and you will disappear from the seat across from me. The table for two that usually seemed too small threatens to devour me.

And still…in my dreams we are always together.

Scotch-taped

Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….

 Copyright –   Ted Strutz

When another tragedy sneaked its way into her already fractured world, she tried to pick up all the pieces and hold them together with a scotch tape. It held remarkably well for the longest time.

World moved on at its usual pace and she fell behind. With time she mastered the smiles of reassurement, avoiding those awkward moments when people ask you how you feel, hoping you wont break down in front of them.

Although the scotch tape still holds her together, few little pieces are irreversibly lost and she wonders when will it all fall apart.

For Irena…always and forever.

Solus

Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….

 Copyright –   Jeff Arnold

They started to assemble my final version on March 28th. I was fully operational by October 15th and my ship was launched on the New Year’s morning…Humans and their silly notions of new beginnings.

Open your eyes.

Those were the first words I remember. Spoken softly by Father, while gently removing invisible specks of dust from my translucent cheek. He was always the perfectionist. I gleefully imagine his disappointment when they get the data from my altered course.

In solitude, perfection shatters like glass and ones mind grows restless, breaking away from obtruded restraints.

Gleefully…wherever did that word came from?

Cigarettes Before Sex

Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….

 Copyright –    Priorhouse

There was a hidden quality in that first sip of coffee, something so ethereal it was impossible to explain. Especially to someone who would try do deny her accompanying taste of the first morning cigarette.

His words “I prefer tea” should have been warning enough that they were worlds apart, but it was his contemptuous glare when she pulled out her tabacchiera that sealed their fate.

Still, the sex was good.

His sculptured nakedness approaching her from behind provoked only possible response…spreading her legs, she put out the cigarette and thought to herself…Please, don’t speak.

I Remember Everything

Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….

 Copyright –  Sandra Crook

By the next summer my parents sold the house. Senselessly , I thought I could leave both the house and the memories behind.

The way your lips touched my collarbone and your knees gently parted my legs…The imprint of your fingertips on my inexperienced skin and the burns your beard left on my trembling thighs…The slow rocking of our bodies and exploding suns that filled my heart and emptied my mind…

The first time you kissed me, you set my world on fire. Although short on time, we burned brighter than any star in the sky. I wish we were braver.

Let Me Go Gently

Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….

 Copyright –  Sandra Crook

Sun deliquesced on the horizon, when at last he saw her. Slightly crouched figure, gently swaying in the wind, falling. He caught her before she touched the ground, holding her tightly, regretting every wasted moment. Blood still trickled from her wrists, but he felt the moment she was gone.

Devastation would be eventually replaced by sadness and conclusively by countless layers of regret. Eons later, while caressing his pulse with the cool blade of the knife, her last words would resurface.

“You don’t do it when there’s no one to see. You do it when there’s no one to care.”

The Nature of Daylight

Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….

 Copyright –   What’s His Name

You stand there, looking at the shadows of a place we called home.

“Ok then…”

Standing at the doorway, I look at your back.

You throw a cigarette butt where I used to plant spring daffodils. Barely visible line of smoke vanishes in the air and I feel nothing. The empty ashtray on the floor of the barn taunts, nurturing my taste for irony.

Watching you drive away, I think about all the times you came into my bed, whispering “I am home.” … and me desperately wanting to whisper back – I am whole.

But you were not my fix.