Window to the Soul

When I first saw this picture, I thought of writing an X-Files fanfiction, but, seeing as it’s Harry Potter’s 35th birthday, I thought I’d go further back in my fandom roots. Here’s something (loosely!) based off of J.K. Rowling’s beloved world.

When I enter the room, the excitement is a tingle in my skin. The light dims gradually and the air is a touch chiller, causing the couples to snuggle closer to one another. How romantic.

There he is. I’ve searched for him for days now.

I greet him by encircling my hands around his neck and bestowing a kiss – long and hard. My mouth encompasses his completely, my jaw latches over part of his. His eyes open wide then go black, windows now veiled forever as I taste his soul. The sweetness lingers on the back of my tongue.

This Flash Fiction Friday was inspired by dementors and the accompanying photo found by Kat!e Larson. Read the other lovely Flash Fiction Friday stories at the links below!

Brianne Dosch * Tiffany Jones * Kat!e Larson * Quinlyn Shaughnessy * Lady Violet

Home Noir

Thunder shook the building and a tall brunette walked into the room. His face was rugged, not what I normally went for, but it did something for me.

He cleared his throat.

“Can I help you?” I was in the business of helping people, but a little reminder never hurt anyone.

“Babe, you know if he takes that experiment to school, he’ll never hear the end of it.” He was awfully familiar. I liked that.

“You don’t need to say another word,” I replied. It wasn’t my idea to destroy it. But it was my job to get it done.

This Flash Fiction Friday was inspired by the amazing thunderstorm out my window and the prompt: "It wasn't my idea to destroy it. But it was my job to get it done." from mandywallace.com. Read the other lovely Flash Fiction Friday stories at the links below!

Brianne Dosch * Tiffany Jones * Kat!e Larson * Quinlyn Shaughnessy * Lady Violet

Wrapping Through Life + Memories of School Fundraisers

Did you ever have to sell anything for school? 

It was cool because it was double sided.

One year at Dilworth Elementary, we sold Sally Foster wrapping paper (which, I just found out via Google, has been discontinued). The PTA did a little fashion show demonstrating how awesome wrapping paper was (I'm not kidding about this. There were full wrapping paper outfits.) and I wanted SO BADLY to get something cool out of the prize magazine. 

I had to share all of my relatives with my sister and all the other neighborhood kids got to the old people on my street first, so Kendle and I both had only enough points to get little clackers, which my mom absconded because she was better at playing with it than we were. She made so much noise and Kendle and I hated it — talk about a role reversal. (Woah. I didn't know that life event needed to be aired.)

If my wrapping paper experience had been a little different, this might have happened to me:

"Would you like to buy some wrapping paper, ma'am?" I launched into my sales pitch once the door creaked open.

"Let's have a look — come inside for a cookie?" She warbled.

Invited inside? That prize for selling the most for my school fundraiser was in the bag!

"Hmmm, these are a little pricey." She perused the pages as I munched away. "I can't buy today. I have to go . . . iron . . . my cat."

As she closed the magazine, my eye caught her cupboards and a cat looked back at me. And another and another.

"I better go." I hightailed it out. Those prizes weren't so great anyway.

This short story is a part of the illustrious Flash Fiction Friday. Read the other lovely stories, spun off the dialogue prompt: "I have to go . . . iron . . . my cat." at the links below!

Brianne Dosch * Tiffany Jones * Kat!e Larson * Quinlyn Shaughnessy * Lady Violet

Human Again (but not the song from Disney's 'Beauty and the Beast')

When he came to, he was holding a feather. He was holding. With a hand! He let go and touched his face. No beak, but a nose and a mouth. Smooth skin, not soft feathers. His face grew wet in the bright sunlight, something he hadn’t been able to do for years. He lifted the rough sleeve of the shift to his face to wipe the tears away, just noticing the feathers poking out from the other unfinished sleeve.

“I’m so sorry, brother.” Aoife's voice carried over the crowd. “There wasn’t time!”

“What for?” He replied, laughing. “I’m whole again!”

This short story is a part of the illustrious Flash Fiction Friday. Read the other lovely stories, spun off the prompt: When he came to, he was holding a feather. from The Sarcastic Muse at the links below!

Brianne Dosch * Tiffany Jones * Kat!e Larson * Quinlyn Shaughnessy * Lady Violet

Learning Curve

“I would like to apologize for what is about to happen,” she whispered, then flipped the switch.

Nothing.

“Um, looks like we’re having technical difficulties.” She snapped the switch back and forth, then batted at her wispy bangs. “Hold please.”

“Eunice!” Her employer growled. “This is the second time this month.”

“Sorry, sir,” she called from behind the machine. “Something must have happened when I oiled the parts yesterday.”

“And she came so highly recommended,” her employer moaned to the gagged man under the giant chrome prong.

“I think I’ve got it!” She flipped the switch and green slime exploded everywhere.

This short story is a part of the illustrious Flash Fiction Friday. Read the other lovely stories, spun off the prompt: “I would like to apologize to everyone for what is about to happen,” she said, then flipped the switch. from Veiled Inspiration at the links below!

Brianne Dosch * Tiffany Jones * Kat!e Larson * Quinlyn Shaughnessy * Lady Violet

Cemetery Stroll

“You’ll know him when you see him,” I told my little sister as I gingerly pried one of the coffins open. “Hello?” I called in, the sound reverberating. 
“I think I’ve been dead since ‘98,” a voice called back. “It was the year the Maine sunk. Such a tragedy that one. And such a lovely boat, too.”
“He must be one of the old ones,” I said as I brought the lid down with a thud. “You can’t even smell anything."
"Hannah! Come over here!"
Encased in crystal, there he was, as pristine as the day I first met him.

This short story is a part of the illustrious Flash Fiction Friday. Read the other lovely stories, spun off the prompt: "I think I've been dead since '98." at the links below!

Brianne Dosch * Tiffany Jones * Kat!e Larson * Quinlyn Shaughnessy * Lady Violet

Wings to Fly

She closed her eyes and counted backwards, eight, seven, six, five . . . .

It never took the full eight seconds — counting was just a way to ignore the yelling around her. When she opened her eyes again, the hallway was filled with hundreds of butterflies, all nestled on the walls.

The ugliest words, the ones that hurt the most, were always the most beautiful, their lacy wings made from the patterns on her tear-stained face. As her breathing slowed, their wings started to flutter and they formed a multi colored cyclone, swirling and swirling until they vanished.

“No.”

She was back.

This short story is a part of the illustrious Flash Fiction Friday. Read the other lovely stories, spun off the prompt: "The hallway was filled with hundreds of butterflies, all nestling on the walls." at the links below!

Brianne Dosch * Tiffany Jones * Kat!e Larson * Quinlyn Shaughnessy * Lady Violet

Running Shoes

"Careful, they're crystal."
"And you're putting that on my feet?"
She glared at me. I backpedaled. "They're the loveliest things I've seen. Ever. But do you think it's necessary?"
"Listen, honey, you'll never dance with such grace as you will tonight. Otherwise it won't just be your dress that is in ruins after midnight." Her grin no longer looked reassuring and grandmotherly. 
I twirled gingerly, my ball gown billowing. "I'm really not that graceful."
"The prince is a shoe guy. This'll snag him."
That clinched it.
"No thank you." I handed her the shoes. "I'd rather be able to walk."

This short story is a part of the illustrious Flash Fiction Friday. Read the other lovely stories, spun off the prompt: "Careful with that, it's ..." at the links below!

Brianne Dosch * Tiffany Jones * Kat!e Larson * Quinlyn Shaughnessy * Lady Violet

Lover's Present

The night was darkening but Nebuchadnezzar could see the faint outline of his wife in the waning moon, her robes shining silver in the starlight.

She wandered up and down the steps, becoming a swirl of motion as she weaved in and out of the saplings.

“Someday those will be mighty tree, my queen,” he called out, and she laughed, then suddenly disappeared.

He leaped over the terrace railing and onto the ground below, running toward the fallen form as fast as he could. “Amytis!”

“It’s so beautiful.” She pulled him down among the flowers and kissed him. “Thank you.”

This short story is a part of the illustrious Flash Fiction Friday. Read the other lovely stories, spun off the prompt: "He leapt over the terrace railing and onto the ground below, running toward the fallen form as fast as he could." at the links below!

Brianne Dosch * Kat!e Larson * Quinlyn Shaughnessy * Lady Violet

Eye Cream Epiphany

"Put the third cream on with your ring finger, yes, that's just right. The ring finger has the softest touch and won't pull your skin to give you premature wrinkles." She hoped her feigned enthusiasm would be enough to hide the dead she felt inside as she rattled on, instructing the seven or so women who she once called her friends. 

How many times could someone be exploited before they considered themselves an enemy? An old coworker was already avoiding eye contact and she hadn't even asked them to sell their friends out yet. 

She had done the Uplift Unit gig.

She had done her hundreds of facials.

She had done the Color Parties with the prizes and the pushing and the guilting.

And she had enough.

"You can keep the stuff," she heard herself say and she walked away. 

And never looked back.

This short story is a part of the illustrious Flash Fiction Friday. Read the other lovely stories, spun off the prompt "She had enough of parties." from The Sarcastic Muse at the links below!

Brianne Dosch * Kat!e Larson * Quinlyn Shaughnessy * Lady Violet

Breathing

Dora studied him over her cup of cocoa and tried to discreetly rub her nose and smooth her hair at the same time; the steam was making her chilled nose run.

He caught her staring and she blushed but didn’t look away. She held her breath until he scooted closer. Their knees now touched.

Bump. Bump. Bump.

She looked up. “What’s that noise?”

“Oh, those are just Grandma’s masks.” He pulled a red plaid curtain aside to display a string of clay masks. “They remind me of windchimes.”

Her smile slipped. “Harold, there’s no wind inside.”

“Oh, that’s just them breathing.”

This short story is a part of the illustrious Flash Fiction Friday. Read the other lovely stories, spun off the prompt (which is the picture with this post) at the links below!

Brianne Dosch * Kat!e Larson * Quinlyn Shaughnessy * Lady Violet

Saturday Morning

The record shop was thick, hazy really, from the curls of incense slipping through the gaps in the curtained alcove.

Carlie shook her head and thought about holding her breath. Was it worth all of this? But she knew her woven pullover and Toms weren’t enough. She wasn’t quite ready to commit to a pixiecut and her eyesight wasn’t bad enough to merit Ray-Bans.

So she needed to at least buy one record. It was only fair. She continued rummaging through the alphabetized cartons.

There was a jingling sound from the bellydancing sarong rack in the corner as the air in the room changed and moved in an unnatural way.

At first, Carlie tasted it, this overwhelming taste of blue. It washed over her, again and again, in varying degrees. Pale, then dark, then dark again.

Head swimming, she stumbled to the front door and breathed the biting October air.

Her aunt was right. Those dirty hipsters.

This short story is a part of the illustrious Flash Fiction Friday. Read the other lovely stories, spun off the prompt: "The air in the room changed and moved in an unnatural way." at the links below!

Brianne Dosch * Kat!e Larson * Quinlyn Shaughnessy * Lady Violet

Swimming Lessons

“The water’s too cold! I don’t want to go in!”

The lifeguard resisted the urge to massage her temples and smiled brightly. “Just bend your knees and propel off the side pool,” she coached.

“Did you see that? There’s something in there!” The ten-year-old shrieked. “I won’t go in!”

Fed up, she nonchalantly shoved him in.

Down, down he sunk, leaving only a trail of bubbles that made their way to the surface.

He looked up when he felt a splash but, instead of finding a teenage girl, he looked into the bright blue eyeball of a giant squid.

Commentary: Soooo, this one probably needs at least another 50 words or so to actually be complete. And sometimes I cheat and write more, but today I felt like sticking to the rules. Maybe I should talk to the group and see if there's any leniency? Or maybe I should write a tighter story, hahaha. I guess what happens to the whiner will be left up to your imagination.

This short story is a part of the illustrious Flash Fiction Friday. Read the other lovely stories, spun off the prompt: "Fed up of hearing his constant whining, the training instructor walked behind him nonchalantly and shoved him in the water." at the links below!

Brianne Dosch * Kat!e Larson * Quinlyn Shaughnessy * Lady Violet

Slaughterhouse Nine

He came up to the gate, covered in blood.

“Hardy day at work, hon?” His wife kissed his lips, the only clean spot on his face, her nose only slightly wrinkled.

“The showers were out and I just couldn’t stand there any longer,” he said, dropping his head to her shoulder. She tensed for a second.

“Your supervisor called me to say you had a hard day in the blood pit.”

“It was fine, Kitty.” His eyes were hollow.

“Take off your boots and your smock,” she coached him out of his protective gear, then opened the gate for him. “We can go home.”

This short story is a part of the illustrious Flash Fiction Friday. Read the other lovely stories, spun off the prompt: "A man, covered in blood, just walked up to the gate." at the links below!

Brianne Dosch * Kat!e Larson * Quinlyn Shaughnessy * Lady Violet

Alienated

It’s said in one moment, your life can change, but in his life, it was moments upon moments that had brought him here. Alone.

Alone, with only shards of what his life had been before. Perfectly alone, with only the memories — the dreams — seen through cracked rose-colored glasses. Gone.

Gone were his marriages, his daughters, his health, his job. Now that he tried to recover the past it was too late. Left.

Left with only the caustic-tinged future. He alternated between perspectives: the glory days and the pessimistic present. Forsaken.

With too much pride to know the difference.

This short story is a part of the illustrious Flash Fiction Friday. Read the other lovely stories, spun off the prompt:  

Ah! what is not a dream by day

   To him whose eyes are cast

On things around him with a ray

   Turned back upon the past?

from Edgar Allan Poe’s poem A Dream at the links below!

Brianne Dosch * Kat!e Larson * Quinlyn Shaughnessy * Lady Violet

Pranksters

Mary and me always play this game when we get a sub. I mean, it doesn’t really hurt anyone, because subs are stupid anyway. It’s like giving a fake name at Starbucks, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? Mess with people. It’s just a joke.

So, when we get this new sub in our fifth hour, we’re overjoyed. You can only keep the fake name going so long if you keep getting the same one. But a new sub, especially this young one, that’s fresh meat right there.

But before I can even open my mouth to tell her my name is Sarafina, she gives me a steely look and I swallow hard.

“Nice to meet you, Kelly,” she says, softlike, but all 36 kids in my class can hear her. “Shall we get started?”

Class goes okay, but Mary and me, we feel like failures. But, we get this bright idea and, when we turn in our worksheets on Egyptian mythology, we scribble the same answers and fill in the name slot, “You don’t even know my real name.”

We feel clever until we realize two periods later that the papers go to our real teacher. And our real teacher is Mary’s mom.

This short story is a part of the illustrious Flash Fiction Friday. Read the other lovely stories, spun off the prompt:  "You don't even know my real name." at the links below!

Brianne Dosch * Kat!e Larson * Quinlyn Shaughnessy * Lady Violet

(Belated) Flash Fiction Friday: Two for the price of one!

Sometimes I get too distracted with family and have a hard time asking someone if I can borrow their computer to type up one hundred word stories. And word count is unwieldy on a cellphone. 

Okay, enough excuses! Here are my two offerings for Flash Fiction Friday!

Playtime

It may be strange, but for years, my only friend was mute. She never spoke, never made a sound, but the look in her eyes told me exactly what was about to happen.

When we played in my bedroom, I would whisper things to her as she stared out the window, unseeing. The room held no laughter.

But, as I whispered to her, images would whir across her glass eyes fringed with dark lashes. A burning forest. A missing child. A raging storm.

I would finger her glossy curls, the silence almost overwhelming.

In ways it was a lonely childhood.

* * *

Collector

Photo credit: blog.eversnapapp.com

“I promise I didn’t sell it, I just lost it and I heard you could find it,” he said.

“I know, that’s why I find them,” the girl with the copper hair replied. “I’ll get it for you.”

It was in the blue jar, the one to the left that smelled like summer and felt like sea breeze.

She was always surprised by the disconnect between human and soul. This lovely specimen belonged to a man trying so hard to pretend like he couldn’t feel the discomfort of its absence, but his bodies unwitting cries to his soul were nearly the loudest she had heard.

“Here you go.” She brought it to him, her hands gently cupped around it. “Gingers don’t steal souls, we just collect them.”

These short stories are a part of the illustrious Flash Fiction Friday. Read the other lovely stories, spun off the prompt:  "She never spoke, never made a sound, but the look in her eyes told me exactly what was about to happen." and "It was the blue jar . . ." at the links below!

Brianne Dosch * Kat!e Larson * Quinlyn Shaughnessy * Lady Violet