Mermaid Misses Ocean, Files for Divorce

 

Following a four month separation, Princess Melody filed for divorce last week. Melody is confident about her decision. “I have no doubts,” she told reporters.

“These legs aren’t all they’re cracked up to be,” she said. “And these feet! Ugh. I have yet to find a pair of comfortable shoes and I simply cannot keep up with my toenails. They’re nasty. I’m paying for pedicures every other week!”

According to the princess, things have not been going well for a while. “The prince may be handsome and I appreciate him helping me get my voice back but he’s dumb as a barnacle. I haven’t had an intelligent conversation since I left the ocean,” she sighed. “Oh, and don’t get me started on the chef! He is still serving seafood for dinner!”

The prince is confused by Melody’s choice to end their marriage. “I divorced that regular girl and married Mel ‘cause she was cool, you know? She gave up her voice and her fin thing for me and now she wants to leave? Weird.” When asked if he planned to contest the divorce, the Prince answered, “Hey, I didn’t know there was a contest. What do I get if I win?”

Melody has discussed the situation with her dolphin friend, Fredric, who is now in negotiation with the sea witch for a potion that will allow Melody to become a mermaid once more. “That,” she said, “would be my ‘Happily Ever After’.”

 

 

This is part of a weekly writing prompt hosted by Sacha Black.

Writespiration #59 Prompt: Pick a Fairy Tale. What happened after ‘Happily Ever After’?

The Set-Up

 

“Just do it,” Anna shoved him toward the door. “He’s alone—no witnesses.”

“I don’t know…”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

He placed his palm on the door, took a breath, and pushed. The room was filled with people seated around a dining table. They fell silent and stared. One man in a charcoal grey suit stood up. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m,” he spotted Anna in the hall, having a giggle fit. “I’m the man who is in love with the devious, scheming…amazing woman you call ‘daughter’. I would be honored to call her ‘wife’. Sir.”

 

 

Flash Fiction Challenge over at Carrot Ranch

September 23 Prompt: Declaration – In 99 words (no more, no less) declare an intention in a story. Is it one person, a character speaking up or speaking out? Is it a group or a nation? Create a tension before or after the declaration. It can be private or public, big or small. Does it have power to those who state it or hear? What does it change?

 

 

Once In a Lifetime

 

“Dude, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

“The only thing that’s truly ‘once in a lifetime’ is dying.”

“What about CPR?”

“Well…”

“Or Defribills?”

“What?”

“Those electric paddle things.”

“Defibrillators, moron.”

“Whatever, dude. They still bring people back. So they die, like, twice.”

“Okay. Point taken.”

“Or more. Sometimes they have, like, twelve heart attacks.”

“No. They really don’t. Fine. Actual death is the only ‘once in a lifetime’ thing. The end. Leave me alone.”

“What about vampires?”

“They’re dead.”

“Not really. They rise again. They’re sort of alive. They talk and think and eat.”

“But…”

“And zombies. They’re sort of living. They… Well, not sure if they think much but they walk and eat.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Who’s the moron now?”

“You. It’s still you. And I’m still not going out with her.”

“You’re missing a once in a…”

“Argh!”

 

 

This is part of a weekly writing prompt hosted by Sacha Black.

Writespiration #58 Prompt: Dialogue (Write a story using only dialogue) 

Divided by Itself

 

 

“She’s gone.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry. We did…”

“Everything you could. I’m a doctor, you fool. I know the drill.”

“A doctor. And couldn’t even save your wife.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said ‘A doctor. Of course. Stevens. That’s right.’” She laid her hand on his arm, “Would you like one of the…”

“No. I don’t need anyone from this place.” He shook her hand off.

“Truly, Dr. Stevens. I am sorry.”

He turned, knowing there was nothing he could do here, not wanting to see his wife lying still. He had watched how family members acted as they entered the rooms of their deceased loved ones. No, he wouldn’t do that. He’d go home.

“There’s no one waiting for you.”

He jumped. Looking wildly around, he squeaked, “Hello?” cleared his throat and barked, “Who’s there? What do you want?”

Silence.

The sunset was an impossible pink. Unnatural. Like a child had scribbled with the wrong color crayons. Surreal and slightly unpleasant. It sunk behind perfectly ordinary grey concrete, which made it all the more annoying.

Dr. Stevens wandered through the parking lot trying to get as much distance as possible between himself and the body of his wife. “Dammit!” he squinted, the light dwindling. Where the hell was his car? He roamed until the sky was thoroughly bruised. Deep purple began turning to charcoal.

“You car is by the entrance. Directly in front of the entrance. Where you left it.”

He spun to find no one. Again. “Get away,” he growled.

“You can distance yourself from her, but not from me.”

He walked some more. Around crushed soda cans, over cigarette stubs, through the sliding doors to room 2357.

“Couldn’t keep your distance?” The voice mocked. Too close. Too angry. Too his.

 

 

#Blogbattle is a weekly writing prompt for flash/short stories hosted by Rachael Ritchey 

Week 27 Prompt: Distance
Genre: Drama

One Line Challenge

 

I’m a bit bogged down in the blog hop department but couldn’t turn down this nomination by Phoenix Grey for the “One Liner Challenge”. It’s…you guessed it: One Line. I add it to this silly story that has circled the blogosphere and had countless writers adding their lines. How does a warm, sunny day at the beach turn into a man locked in a room with a vampire? It’s ridiculous and kind of hilarious. My line is at the bottom of the post in italics.

Chapter 1…THE BEACH
It was a warm sunny day and sea was an almost transparent shade of blue. I lay there, watching the waves lap on the shore, a drink in hand, a tear rolling down my cheek. I stand up yelling at that boy who threw this load of sand into my eyes and my drink when he jumped over me. I then grabbed my water gun, running fast after him, I was laughing, he was jumping over people to escape. He turned to look at me, but didn’t see the two children in front of him carrying two delicious looking ice cream cones. As he barreled into the children, knocking the ice-cream from their grasp, I caught one of the scoops of pistachio and hurled it at his head as I fell laughing to the ground! And what luck, his mouth was open and he gulped down the scoop, spitting nuts rapid-fire style like a rabid squirrel! And wouldn’t you know it, a squirrel leaped from a nearby tree, performing a flying maneuver worthy of the best traveling circus family, catching the nuts in his mouth in mid-air!! It was all too fantastical and I wondered for a moment if I’d forgotten to take my medication earlier…or perhaps I took too much! I opened my eyes with a jolt, peeled my face from the sticky plastic beach lounger, and rubbed my eyes-sun and too many mojitos make for ridiculous dreams! Unaware to her, the man behind the one way mirror furiously scribbled down notes and couldn’t help but marvel at how his creation truly believed IT was a real human being and he hadn’t even begun stage 2984DU which everyone with his intellect knows is when the real fun starts! Professor James Loxet knew he had just one more test to carry out before the implant of the 2984DU chip, Just one more social situation, the dinner party. The thought of going to this party, surrounded by so many people, just made James cringe to his core, he hated crowds of people! Yet, at the nagging of his close friends, James, picked himself up from the beach and headed home to change for the party. Despite his nagging headache and the gnaw of anxiety in his gut, James found a sort of peace in the ritual of dressing. The party was a very formal affair, so James decided to put on his best black tuxedo. He stood before a mirror, fidgeting at the tight-fit of his white shirt and tie, trying to feel comfortable. The minute he walked through the rotating doors, he was greeted by Brenda, a horrid woman with a snaggletooth and unibrow who spoke through her nose and mocked his work, calling him Mr. Latex. The back of his psyche buzzing,“Mr Latex will read your entrails!” hisses toward her. His thought was interrupted as his eyes landed on Robin, mesmerizing in strapless long black dress with hair tied high on her head, flashing her glowing skin. Mrs. Robin, he clenched his teeth as he reminded himself of her new status.Just as he was imagining how different his life could have been if he had married her, Robin felt his eyes trailing the length of her body and gave him a cold, hard look before turning her back to him. James would not let her go so easily, no matter her status; he rushed behind her, pressed himself against her back as one hand gripped her wrist and the other pressed firmly on her stomach. The pain of a stiletto heel shot through him, and as he released his grip on her, Robin spun round,and James doubled over in agony as her knee made contact with his balls. Why oh why, after previously ripping the very expensive fitted sheet his mother had bought him for Christmas, had he let her persuade him to wear those stilettos in bed again? He slowly straightened himself and quickly did a scan around the room to see who may have witnessed what had just happened…good, no one, it seemed, and sauntered over to the bar, in his ‘no, I wasn’t just kneed in the balls’ kinda way. Behind the bar stood the lovely Karen, whose eyes looked on James with pity. “May I have a bag of ice?” he asked looking down at the floor. “I saw what happened James. You need more than ice. Meet me in the upstairs bedroom and I will take care of you.”

Karen slipped out from behind the bar as James walked away. She watched him head up the stairs, and then followed him up. The bedroom door was open. She closed it, fastening them both in the room. His eyes widened at the sight of her teeth. Long. Sharp. Pointed. A vampire?

 

“I know what you’re thinking, but vampires don’t get cavities,” Karen opened her mouth and pointed to three fillings in her molars then to her sharp canines, “these are just something all werewolves are born with.”

 

Beaton shall be my victim. Bwahaha! I mean, he’ll continue the story or get turned into a werewolf. Which, actually, he might not mind.

Yes, there are rules. And they are as follows:

1. Write one line in an ongoing story
2. Pass the challenge onto the next victim/nominee
3. Link back to your nominator
4. Link back to Rich at Shine On: Wafflemethis who created the challenge
5. Copy and paste all the previous story and add your line in italics
6. If you decide you don’t want to take part, please contact Rich at Waffles so he can send it elsewhere and keep his story going

Lost

 

She ran a brush through her daughter’s hair.

“Mrs. Nevins?” The door opened a crack. “Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m…” She looked at her lap. “Silly me. I’ve left the elastic on the table. Could you reach it?” She pointed to the sparkly, green hair band.

“Of course.” The nurse stepped in, grabbing the elastic and handing it over the bed.

“She loves this bright color. What do you call it?”

“I’d say ‘neon’.” The nurse paused. “I’m calling Dr. Nate to get your meds, okay?”

“Can I finish braiding her hair before the medicine makes her leave?”

 

 

Flash Fiction Challenge over at Carrot Ranch

September 9 Prompt: Lost – In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about someone or something that’s lost.

 

 

Hunger

 

 

“You have to… You know…”

“What?”

Martin cringed. “Cut its head off.”

“Huh. Well that’s…” Jill squinted at the body. “Can’t we just bury it?”

“Nah, it’ll rise again.”

Jill thought about this. “So would it be a zombie?”

“No,” Martin said. Then, “Actually, I’m not sure.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ll Google it.”

“Cool.”

“Okay, here’s something. It says… Wait. Is this thing dead? I mean, again?”

Jill jumped away from the corpse. “I just assumed.”

“I think it is,” Martin stepped closer. “Looks dead. But I guess it would.” He glanced at his phone. “These sites are a mess. None agree on what will actually kill it. Look, I really think we should cut off the head.”

“With what?”

“Good point. I’ll ask Siri.” He stuck his face in front of the screen. “How do you cut off a vampire’s head? Argh! Hold on. She’s finding me places to get tire treads.”

“Any pictures of Edward yet?” Jill peeked over his shoulder. “Ooh…sparkly!”

“You know what, Siri?! Go f…”

“Don’t yell at her! She’s like an all-powerful genie. ‘Phenomenal cosmic powers. Itty-bitty living space‘.” She wiped a tear. “Aw, man, I loved Robin Williams.”

“Huh?”

“Disney? Aladdin?” She rolled her eyes. “The Genie!”

“Oh. Right, right,” Martin sniffed. “Yeah, Robin was great. Okay. Google it is then.”

As she waited, Jill rummaged through the cabinets. “What about garlic? It’ll buy us some time at least, won’t it?”

“Sure, sure. Do we have any?”

“We have, um, cloves, anise, mint, tons of salt, and…camomile.” She laughed. “We can make it herbal tea and calm it to death. Hey,” she grabbed a bottle, “who has anise?”

“We do, apparently.”

“What do we use it for?”

“No idea. Is there any garlic?”

“Nope. Sorry.” Jill unscrewed the lid and sniffed the mint. “Mmm. Minty.”

“You’re making me hungry.”

 

“Excuse me, I don’t mean to be rude but are you two drunk? Because I don’t drink. Alcohol, I mean.” The vampire licked its teeth.

 

 

#Blogbattle is a weekly writing prompt for flash/short stories hosted by Rachael Ritchey 

Week 26 Prompt: Head
Genre: Humor

Legume Allergy Leads to Domestic Troubles

 

 

Three months after a whirlwind marriage, the local princess, Penelope, finally pins down the cause of her poor health. “Pea sensitivity,” she says. The princess recalls running to the home of the royal family seeking refuge from a violent thunderstorm.  “After I dried off, we had a nice dinner and they invited me to stay.”

The queen then allegedly hid a dried pea underneath the princess’s mattress which was found by a maid the following morning. “Who puts a piece of produce in your bed?” the princess asked. “The woman is nuts.”

“I broke out in hives and had to use major amounts of makeup for the wedding. I looked like a cranberry pancake,” she cried.

The queen, saddened by what she calls “the loss of my son to that gold-digger”, claims the princess married the prince for money. “It is widely known that the girl’s father lost his fortune gambling on fantasy football.”

“We’ve been living in our own place for about two months,” the princess said. “Haven’t had a rash since. Well, except for that time my mother-in-law visited and insisted on helping with dinner.”

The prince declined to be interviewed but would say that Dr. Daniel Fabaceae diagnosed the allergy, insisting that it is severe and could be fatal.

The queen scoffed at the newly diagnosed legume sensitivity but is scheduling another visit to the happy couple’s home next week with some beanbag chairs as a belated wedding gift.

 

 

#Blogbattle is a weekly writing prompt for flash/short stories hosted by Rachael Ritchey 

Week 24 Prompt: Legumes
Genre: Satire/Humor

 

 

Toasted

 

“What could be better than this?”

“Not a thing.” Donna smiled at her husband.

“It’s like being on vacation…”

“Every day,” she finished.

They clinked glasses, toasting their new beachfront home, watching frothy waves roll up on their private beach.

 

They don’t talk about that night on their deck overlooking the ocean—the shattered champagne bottle, the shattered dream.

But they are reminded.

Every time they reach out for help, they are reminded.

Sipping scotch in the motel, they listen to Donna’s mother on speakerphone. “A category 4 hurricane. Tsk, tsk. I told you not to buy beachfront property.”

 

 

Flash Fiction Challenge over at Carrot Ranch

August 26 Prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about the need for help in an extreme weather event. Does it arrive or does the plea go ignored?