Flash fiction - Afterwards

Time has changed its meaning for me recently. This time, right now, is precious because I don't know when I'll get it again. So, get those words on the page (furiously! furiously!) and on we go. Here's this week's write for the wonders over at Studio 30+ who kindly used my writing from last week - Newborn - to source their prompts: 'chamber of secrets' and/or 'stars'. I went for the double whammy this time. 

Afterwards

“When we are old, will we still love each other?”

“Of course, only more.”

They were sixteen when they had had that conversation, laying in the sand dunes, under the stars, high on life. Now, some sixty-odd years later, they held hands against her life’s setting sun and she asked him again.

He looked over at her. Her eyes were still roaming and sparkling and as curious as they had been at birth. His friend. His confident. Later, his lover, his love. His wife. Mother of his children, grandmother of their children. He briefly wondered how much more wonderful could a person be before answering,

“Of course, only more.”

Despite the enormous pressure of the pain from all corners of her body, she grinned, wildly and openly. Laughing hurt, but smiles could be a good measure of their time. One more smile. He always had that to go for.

“Darling, what do you think will happen. Afterwards?”

He looked out over the fields stretching past their bedroom window. He thought of his return to the world out there, alone. Though this room had been stifling at times during the past weeks, it was their last space together, their comfort, their chamber of secrets. Yes, it was also the end of her life, but he took great comfort in the fact it was he and he alone who was passing her on. No doctors, no smiling strangers.

“You will wait for me in a place where, when I go, I will know exactly where to find you.”

“You romantic, you.” Another smile.

“No? Then tell me, where are you going?”

“Nowhere. I’ll stay and haunt the house. I’ll be in the teacups and the bathroom taps and the pots in the shed.”

He laughed. “Still nagging me no doubt?”

The last smile. “Of course, only more.”

Flash fiction - Emerald

Joining the party a little tardy after the cool crew at Studio 30+ chose this week's writing prompts from my haiku last week. Better late than never, though, right? The prompt I chose of the two was ladybirds. Thanks for reading. 

Emerald

The handkerchief of increasing despair lies in her sweaty palm, charting her demise. Those in the shadows know it won’t be long and they shift in the cluttered boudoir, avoiding the burgundy, pink, ivory and pale blue bodices and skirts of their friend, their lover, their employee.

Emerald still manages to draw them to her, as she always has. As this place, probably, always will. Her chalk white fingers encircle the material as she brings it to her mouth, those sounds breaking the silence of waiting. It’s now more than blots that plan her final path; gone are the ladybirds of blood that signalled the beginning of the end. Huge countries map themselves onto the handkerchief, stains of where she has been. Is one of them where she is going? Is heaven or hell depicted among the blemishes her insides thrust out of her? Would she be able to tell the difference?

Canto moves forward and pushes down on her shoulders as the heaving subsides. The pillows and cushions welcome her back. Emerald remembers she is wearing her favourite dress. She has been wearing it for three days. She remembers Majorie putting her into it after the priest’s visit. It still makes her feel ready. She closes her eyes and hopes it isn’t too stained for whatever is coming next.

Canto stays next to her and takes her hand. She knows he will be the last to leave after everyone else has gone; back to their rooms, their stages, the work that awaits them. Time is money, she has always understood that. Canto will continue to hold her hand afterwards, talk to her, stroke her face, kiss her eyes – her eyes which gave her her name. He will stay with her and among her things, the lace, the little china cups she treasures.

One last breath. Treasured.

And he does stay, holding on to the moment where, finally, he has her to himself; his pure, beautiful Emerald whom everyone loved but no one could keep.

Flash fiction - In The End

Hoorah! I have time this week for some writing, so I'm back over at Julia's Place and her 100-word challenge for grown ups. She's feeling all theatrical with her prompt this week, so we're to use these famous words from Hamlet: Alas poor Yorick. As usual it's 100 words only and please feel free to comment or constructively criticise below and then read others by clicking on the icon at the bottom. Here's my offering.

In The End

In the space between your heartbeats I nestled, conjuring something from the little we shared. Stars shifted namelessly above and while we waited for the end, I imagined seeing you again in that infinite sky. Was it years or days or just minutes we knew each other and loved and fought and laughed and cried? Yorick, you were every man I ever loved, everyone I wanted to be and yet, alas, poor Yorick, you faded to nothing on that cliff. I left you there after your last breath to turn into dust and a quote on the never-ending, pointless wind. 

100 words

Flash fiction - Life's Crescendo

Writing prompts take you in all manner of directions. What appears to be a happy prompt by the prompter can be cut into sad little pieces. Or a mysterious line for some turns into a romantic comedy for others. This week over at Julia's Place, I went in the opposite direction to what prompted the prompt by Julia. Here's my offering including the words, whenever I hear it I think of you. 

Life’s Crescendo

Those last days, you clawed onto life. Rasping through an unimaginable pain, your skin translucent I didn’t know where the sheets ended and you began. You, shrunken to something else. Gone. Broken-hearted, that was all I could see afterwards. I stood on our cliff, looked out into nothingness. Inched forward. 
     But the bandstand threw me a life-line. Those notes, the interruption of the trumpets like a shock to the heart. The crescendos made me look up, into the blue, the light. I stepped back, let the wind and your music carry me back to life. Now, whenever I hear it I think of you and I see sunshine. 

100 words + prompt

Click on the 100WCGU icon to read more entries and enter.

Flash fiction - The Pledge

The prompt for 100WCGU over at Julia's Place took me to a stranger place than usual in my writing. Have a read and see what you think. Then click on the 100WCGU icon to read more entries. This week's prompt is ... as the world turned ...

The Pledge

Their palms faced the sky they had fallen from, not so many years ago. The two mothers stood at their feet, wondering why it had taken this for them to find peace. This beach, eyes closed, dressed all in white. But they wouldn’t wake up, even though the sun was poking its head over the blue-grey horizon. One mother stifled a sob. The other looked dreamily out to sea. As the city coroner pulled up, as people woke up to this news, as the world turned and everything carried on as it always had, she took a deep breath and walked into the ocean.

104 words

Read, comment and then read some more!