Liar Liar


Have I waited long enough to text her?  Did I wait too long?  He’s nervous as he types a quick message to the woman he hasn’t be able to get out of his head since their perfect first date.

Her phone vibrates on the nightstand.  It’s 6 pm on a Sunday night.  Beauty night.  She has a mud mask on her face, separators between her freshly-painted toes and a stinky conditioning treatment in her hair.  A half-full bag of shredded cheddar cheese lies at her side.  Glamour.

She gingerly picks up the phone.  She expected him to text her back days ago.  What kind of game is this?

“What are you doing?” The text reads.

“I just poured a glass of wine and am about to watch a World War II documentary my friends recommended,” she types one-handed as she stuffs a handful of cheese in her mouth.  The Atlanta Hawks race across the court on the television screen.

“Nice.”  He types back.  She watches war documentaries?  I guess the playoff game I was going to suggest for our second date is out.  “Any plans Tuesday night?”

More cheese and a Kardashian marathon.  “I have a work thing but I can probably get out of it.”

“Great, I have tickets to that new exhibit at the museum.  Some paleontology thing.”  A paleontology thing?  Great, now she’ll really think I’m an idiot.

“That could be fun.”  As fun as watching grass grow.

“So, meet you there at 6?”

“K.  See you then.”

She drops her phone on the bed, her heart racing with excitement.

Hope this guy doesn’t turn out to be another liar.


For Sunday Photo Fiction



She lived in a windmill.  How poetic.  He imagined her beautiful, simple life, the one she’d described in all of her messages. She spent her days taking long bike rides along fields bursting with tulips and painting the many watercolor landscapes that adorned the unique dwelling.

The door opened, and there she was.  The beautiful face that he’d stared at on his computer screen every night for nearly a year.  The face he’d flown over a thousand miles to see in person.  Her smile was friendly, but there was no recognition in her eyes.

“It’s me,” he said hopefully, thinking of the dozens of pics they’d exchanged.   Did he really look that different in person?  Her good manners prevailed and she took a tentative step back to allow him inside.  As she gathered the strength to tell him that she had no idea who he was, she didn’t notice her mother tucking her laptop under her arm and exiting through the backdoor.  She’d decided she needed a long, thoughtful walk in the sun.

For Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers


Kinda Sorta


“Amie – do you promise to cleave to Michael, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

The officiant’s icy glare frightened Amie, causing her eyes to scan the room.  She caught the eye of someone in the audience – a friend of Micheal’s perhaps?  He was gorgeous, soulful brown eyes, broad shoulders, and those lips, wow…he was one of those guys you could look at and just know they would be a great kisser…but, Michael, and a secure, happy future, were staring at her in expectation.

She crossed her toes. “I do.”


The cue for the six sentence story challenge this week was cleave.



He was the first guy Lily’d looked at in a long time and thought, maybe.  Sam took her hand as they meandered down the trail and silently took in the view – the tourists, the water, the imposing medieval castle looming ahead.  They were going to spend the day sight-seeing in an unfamiliar city, her idea of the perfect date, something she’d revealed to him shortly after they met.


A woman approached them, glaring.


“What are you…?”

Sam cut the woman off in mid-sentence, taking her arm roughly and leading her away.  They spoke in whispers, both gesturing widely.  Georgia finally turned and left in tears, giving Lily a final death glare before departing.

Sam looked sheepish when he returned to her.  “Lily, I…”

“I’m so excited about touring the castle.  The history behind it is so romantic…”

Sam looked confused, but Lily kept babbling on and on, afraid for him to speak.  She wanted to hold on to maybe a little while longer.

For Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers