The Cliffs of Insanity

 

I stood on the cliff, barefoot and bikini-clad.

Glaring at the other kids until I was satisfied they wouldn’t push me, I peeked over the edge.

Sheer rock, straight down. Grey granite sinking into dull green water.

Two boulders with a small gap of ocean in between marked my destination.

I stepped back and blew out a breath. “That’s fucking high. Like, really high.”

“Yeah,” Jim backed away. “Ladies first.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“Nice,” I stared him down. “Wait. You’re not jumping, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Fine,” I threw my towel at him, sprinted, and jumped.

 

 

Flash Fiction Challenge over at Carrot Ranch

March 23, 2016 prompt: Adventure – In 99 words (no more, no less) tell about an adventure experienced or witnessed.

This week, the challenge was more of a flash nonfiction. I was 15 years old and the only girl of the group to jump. #truestory

I shamelessly stole this title from a line in The Princess Bride (one of my favorite movies).

 

 

Cocktail Party

 

Fruit punch splattered her dress, the shimmering silver fabric stained with neon red splotches. She looked like a walking disease. “What the hell did you do that for?”

The man smiled, wiping his large hand on a cocktail napkin. “That drink wasn’t meant for you.”

No matter. He was always prepared.

Tugging his shirt cuffs so they peeked out a quarter inch, he glanced at the puddle under her feet. “You’re welcome. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He patted the extra vial of poison in his pocket, pleased at how easy his job had become after just one kill.

 

 

Flash Fiction Challenge over at Carrot Ranch

March 16, 2016 prompt: Just One – In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about the idea of “just one.” If all it takes is just one, what is the story?

Okay, so here’s a perfect example of my #Tweets4Blogs idea. I was running out of time to get this 99 word writing prompt in on time. My six word story from Twitter sparked an idea and 93 words later…here we are. 🙂 The original tweet was:

 

  SarahBrentyn

“That drink wasn’t meant for you.”

#Tweets4Blogs

Roots

 

 

She spent seven years looking for an anchor.

That’s what everyone said she needed. A partner who could ground her, keep her rational, responsible, sensible.

Keep her from herself.

She found him and attached herself to his sanity. His kindness soothed, his composure balanced. He tethered her to this world like a kite string.

Often, she thought of him when she gardened, digging her hands into the soil, marveling at thin strands stretching, reaching down to set themselves.

She daydreamed about roots reaching up. Why not? Into possibility? Into open sky where they might breathe? No, the fragile flowers grabbed earth and wrapped around and held so tightly it took great force to rip them out.

Like the plants, she lived because she was smothered.

Yes, he tethered her—and that is the only way she existed at all.

In early spring, temptation decided to push its way into her pretty life. It shone not like the soft streaks of sunlight through tree branches, but like a flashlight—its beam bright and unforgiving. It exposed her. And the delicate ribbon tying her to him morphed into a thick chain. A leash.

She wouldn’t be a dog, even a beloved one. She was a bird and needed to fly.

Wiping her palms on her jeans, she picked up dirt-caked shears, cut the cord, and walked away. Away from comfort—the home, the garden, and him.

She brushed off dust from the place where she had established respectable roots and danced to a place where her thirst for what she wasn’t supposed to want could be satiated. Because what she needed wasn’t an anchor, but an oasis.

 

 

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

For Week 53, Rachael is celebrating one year of #blogbattle fun by having participants choose a post and re-enter it. I haven’t been participating that long and I don’t get a story in every single week, but I’ve written a few. It really lets me stretch my writing muscles. Thanks, Rachael! 

This one, from week 23, is my first flash for #blogbattle. 

View all the wonderful stories and vote for your favorite here. 

The prompt: Oasis

Genre: Drama

 

Regret Has a Serrated Spoon

 

I just did something unforgivable.

Shakespeare says, “What’s done cannot be undone.”

I know the pain of this truth.

I have felt the words “blind rage”. I don’t remember all of what I did in my fury.

No one talks about the confusion that follows, when you’re in a heap on the floor wondering what happened. Or the regret that scoops you out like a cantaloupe.

I am hollow.

How fortunate I am that regret has a serrated spoon. As an empty husk, there’s a chance I can live.

With the fragmented memories of this thing that I did.

 

 

Flash Fiction Challenge over at Carrot Ranch

March 9, 2016 prompt: Monster – In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about a monster

 

 

Split Ends for Prince and Rapunzel

 

Photo taken (by me) from Treasury of Fairy Tales

 

Rapunzel, famed for her long, golden locks, was dumped last week by her long-time boyfriend.

“I know, it’s hard to believe anyone would break up with me,” she braided a piece of her hair. “But, no biggie. I mean, I know he’s a prince and all but he’s kind of a jerk.”

Reports from the kingdom paint Prince as a kind and generous member of the royal family, often donating to the local animal shelter and helping out at soup kitchens.

“Everyone loves princey-boy. But he pulled my hair! He climbed it like a stinkin’ ladder! And he likes macaroons. I mean, seriously, who likes macaroons?”

When asked if she had any plans to get a haircut, Rapunzel answered, “I cut my hair one time, you know, to get down from this tower because,” she swung her arm in a circle, “no stairs! Then princey suggested I donate it to Locks of Love. I felt good for, like, five minutes. Then I shut myself up here until it grew back.”

When asked about Helga, the owner of the tower Rapunzel now rents, Rapunzel replied, “She’s a witch, you know, always brewing concoctions in her cauldron.”

“I believe the term is ‘Wiccan’, now.”

“Whatever. Anyway, it’s not ‘real’ magic stuff. She makes awesome hair products and I model them for her through there,” she tilted her head toward the window. “I just smile and,” she laughed, “let down my hair! She’s making boatloads of money.”

“So, just for the record, Helga doesn’t force you to stay here?”

“Ha! No! I’m not going out there.” She examined the ends of her hair through a small telescope. “Do you have any idea what sunlight and humidity can do to your hair?”

~~~

We visited the palace to speak with the prince about the infamous break-up.

He said, “I couldn’t support her shampoo habit any longer. Nearly all the gold from my kingdom is with the barber who closed shop and retired to Hawaii.”

When asked if he regretted his decision, he responded, “Nah. She’s pretty vain. And selfish. I’m happy she’s gone. Macaroon?”

 

 

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

Read more stories and vote for your favorite here.

Week 52 Prompt: Hair
Genre: Satire/Humor

 

 

Toddler Time

 

Every Saturday, Lucy walked past groups of high school kids smoking in the arched library entrance.

“Hey, Lucy! Headed in for Toddler Time?”

“Mother Goose?” they mocked.

She grinned. “Dr. Seuss today, boys. Care to join?”

“Do we get a juice box?”

Lucy climbed the brick stairs and closed the door on their laughter.

The librarians busied themselves when they saw her.

“No worries, ladies. My kind of crazy isn’t contagious.”

Some of them had the decency to blush.

She reached the children’s section, charred from last year’s tragic fire, and smiled at the little ones waiting for her.

 

 

Flash Fiction Challenge over at Carrot Ranch

March 2, 2016 prompt: Libraries – In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes a library

 

Need

 

Somewhere along the way, she lost the ability to hear her own words.

When she spoke, it sounded as if a nest of hornets had been disturbed. A hollow, distant, buzzing noise that made her head feel full of cotton.

But he heard her clearly.

He loved her and she didn’t understand it. Not the love or the words.

Her thoughts were lucid, though. She watched from afar as tiny fissures formed each day—slowly shattering her mind.

She needed him to see that this life was crushing her but, though he listened with undiluted love, he was blind.

 

 

 

This is a 99 word flash I wrote for my lovely and talented tweep, Katsyarina, who asked for more of my #1linewed.

The prompt was “need” and the original tweet was this last line. Thanks, Katsyarina. Lovely Poetess. ❤