Gone

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I can’t believe I’m doing this, I mutter to myself as I follow Thad down the dark suburban street.  He’s peeking in car windows, seeing if an absent-minded owner left something enticing on the front seat.   Mom warned me about this guy and I should have listened.  Not that I would ever give her the satisfaction of knowing she was right.

“Whoa!” There it is, an iPad, sitting in plain sight on the front seat of an unlocked Ferrari.   It’s funny how living in an elite, gated community can lull people into a false sense of security.  They never stopped to wonder if the people they should worry about are locked inside with them.   “Let’s take the car over to Dylan’s and show ’em.  His parents are out of town for like, the whole weekend.”

“I gotta go.  Mom’s waiting.  She freaked last time I was late, sooooo…”

“Whatever.”  He turns his back and hops into the Ferrari, getting it started within seconds.  He attempts to speed away from the curb, but the back tire wobbles, spinning away from the car and rolling down the asphalt, into someone’s yard, then down the hill into the river that runs behind all of the houses on this street.  The doors lock.  Thad frantically tries to open them, but it’s too late.  It is a trap.  I duck into the woods across the street, a shortcut to my house.  Through the trees I see the flashing red and blue lights, hear the whir of the sirens.  I run faster, to the haven of my mother’s home, feeling grateful.

 

For Sunday Photo Fiction!

 

 

 

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Mother of the Bride

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PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

She’s going to get her heart broken.  It will be brutal and bloody and awful and I will have to watch.  Those are my only thoughts as I make the arduous trek to the top of the hill, where she is sitting.   Her face is set and angry and she is pouting like a little girl.  She looks so young and beautiful, with the golden, late afternoon sun hitting her face like that.  She stands as I approach.

“Let’s plan your wedding.”

She squeals and pulls me into a hug, and I decide to be happy.

For Friday Fictioneers!

 

Every Family Reunion In the South

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“Do you remember Cousin Fifi?”

“No ma’am.”

“Yes, you know her, the one with the green eyes?”

“No ma’am, I don’t think I do.”

“You know, Cousin Fifi. She used to be married to Junior. They drove that green Cadillac?”

“Hmmm…no, I still can’t place her.”

“Remember – she used to keep you when you were little.”

“Ohhhhhhhh Cousin Fifi. Yes, I used to love her when I was a kid. I miss her. Is she coming later?”

“No, she died. The funeral is next Saturday.  Do you want to ride with us?”

Long pause.

“Let me get back to you.”

Month

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“Jack, will you marry me?”

Christie was on one knee, wearing a one-shoulder red gown, a replica of the one Cate Blanchett had worn to the Academy Awards.  She was presenting her boyfriend of one month with a beautiful custom-made white gold engagement ring, encrusted with tiny diamonds.  The orchestra she’d hired reached a crescendo.  They were playing the theme from the The Notebook, her favorite film.

Christie believed in making her dreams come true.  She even had a dream collage for 2015 taped up in her bedroom.  It was covered in pictures of wedding gowns, floral arrangements, and honeymoon destinations.  That was all she wanted for the year that was almost over.  She decided in January to approach her love life the same way she approached her career.  She was the youngest VP at her company at age 26.  She was the only one of her friends who owned her own home.  How did she achieve her success?  By not giving up!  By asking for what she wanted. If one door shut in her face she banged hard on the next one.  Why not approach romance in the same way?  Why didn’t more people approach it this way?  Go big or go home!  That was her motto.

Jack was stunned, but quickly recovered.  “Uhhhh…sure!”

She squealed and jumped to her feet, kissing Jack wildly.  Leaving documents listing all of her assets and healthy account balances scattered around her home had been a shrewd move.  She knew Jack was broke.  She’d resorted to picking up guys in the parking lot outside the unemployment office.  Hey, it was November, desperate times called for desperate measures.  The important thing was she’d achieved her goal.  A wedding in December.  A winter wonderland theme.  Or maybe Frozen

“I love you,” Jack whispered in her ear. A lie, but that was okay.  She’d make getting him to love her next year’s goal.  Her 2016 collage was almost finished.

In honor of NaNoWriMo, I’m going to post a new flash fiction story every Monday in November – each incorporating either the word National, Novel, Writing, or Month.  Original right?  🙂  Thanks for reading.