Tag: Short fiction

Posted in Challenges, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Uncategorized

Wild Horses

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

#fridayfictionwithronovanwrites Prompt Challenge #30 – Favorite Song

Song: Wild Horses by The Rolling Stones

She didn’t understand what it was about this man. It seemed that no matter what he did or said, she couldn’t find the strength to walk away from him. He was the special one, the one in a million.

She knew that he had been through a lot in his life. Many relationships. All had ended badly. Many great loves that turned out to be not so great. He was cynical, jaded, and took it out on her. She had to believe he didn’t mean to though that belief was starting to fade.

For so many years, she had loved him unconditionally, always remembering the life he had before she entered the picture. Maybe it was the life he still had. He couldn’t seem to accept anything pure or good.

Was what she offered him pure and good or was it selfish? She wasn’t objective about herself and couldn’t answer that question. There were times when she left that she was glad to be gone from him. She was more at peace when she was away from him than when she was with him. She always went back.

Wild horses couldn’t drag her away from her relationship with him.

His former life wasn’t the only problem. Her life contributed to the dysfunction in their relationship as well. She was needy and jealous. Although she tried not to be, she’d never had much positive reinforcement in her life. Then there was The Incident when she was physically abused. She couldn’t think about that.

Was it truly unconditional love that kept her with him? Was it something else, something darker? Was she afraid to step out into the world and take her chances? Was she going to stay with him, no matter what, because she was afraid something else would be worse? She was suffering abuse at his hands too. Emotional abuse.

Then, it happened. She didn’t know what “it” was, but one day, her emotions turned off as if they had been switched off. She looked at him and didn’t care anymore. She wanted to be away from him. Suddenly, she was free, but she had wasted so many years. She didn’t have much time left.

The wild horses that couldn’t drag her away were now carrying her away to her freedom. What about him? She couldn’t sacrifice herself anymore.

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Song Lyrics – Wild Horses

Childhood living is easy to do

The things you wanted I bought them for you

Graceless lady you know who I am

You know I can’t let you slide through my hands

Wild horses couldn’t drag me away

Wild, wild horses couldn’t drag me away

I watched you suffer a dull aching pain

Now you’ve decided to show me the same

No sweeping exits or offstage lines

Could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind

Wild horses couldn’t drag me away

Wild, wild horses couldn’t drag me away

I know I’ve dreamed you a sin and a lie

I have my freedom but I don’t have much time

Faith has been broken tears must be cried

Let’s do some living after we die

Wild horses couldn’t drag me away

Wild, wild horses we’ll ride them some day

Wild horses couldn’t drag me away

Wild, wild horses we’ll ride them some day

Thanks to A Writer’s Life for the prompt.

Posted in Challenges, Flash Fiction

Vanished – #fridayfictioneers – June 21, 2024

Posted on by R.M. Carlson
Photo @ Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

It descended upon her while she was walking through the woods. A giant web of some sort, but it didn’t seem to be finished. She heard something weaving.

She was frightened. It felt like it was grabbing at her and she tried to swipe it away.

She was coming to what seemed to be the end of it. The web had gotten smaller. The sound of weaving had gotten louder.

She fought it and tried to pull it off her. It seemed to tighten and then wrapped around her.

She started screaming as the world went dark.

Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers.

Posted in #unicornchallenge, Challenges, Flash Fiction

Two Faces – #unicornchallenge – May 24, 2024

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

She sat on a bench across the street from the museum, studying the sculpture in front.  It was a man, seemingly sculpted from wood, reading. He reminded her of a book she once read, “A Man of Two Faces.”

If you looked closely at the man, you could see his skeletal-like face. Above it, between his forehead and the crown of his head, another face appeared to her. You could distinguish two eyes and a nose that would be looking skyward if the sculpture could have looked up. He captured her imagination particularly given the times she was living in.

The outward looking face of the man was bowed, reading a book. The book he was reading, she imagined, was a book on American culture in these unsettled current times. There were bitter political rivalries, hundreds of conspiracy theories, religious involvement, misinformation and disinformation. Neighbors turned against neighbors and family against family. Long-time friendships were forever destroyed. The American dream to her seemed to be gone and she had no understanding of half the American population and its thinking.

She looked at the other face of the sculpture. That face wasn’t as clear, the expression was more off-kilter, perhaps confused, and a little dreamy. Maybe that face was dreaming of what could be, but wasn’t, in America. The American Dream, but this time an inclusive American Dream that was available to everyone. Was it now lost forever? Destroyed by greed and the lust for power? The sculpture had no answers.

Thanks to Ayr/Gray for hosting the #unicornchallengeT.

Posted in Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers

Absconded

Posted on by R.M. Carlson
Photo prompt by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

See that picture on the wall of the girl with the flaming hair? She’s my sister. She was my roommate, but now she’s gone. She left without warning me that she was going to bolt.

Look at the mess she’s left in my apartment. It’s appalling that she left me with this mess without telling me. How could she do this to me? How could she just abandon me? One day she just didn’t come home. I waited, but all I got was that terrible phone call. I can visit her, but I don’t like to go to the cemetery.

For Friday Fictioneers, May 22, 2022

Posted in Fiction

Portal: The Escape – #writephoto

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The only way she could think was to walk. She had found a long, lonely road where no one lived on the island. It was filled with the shade of the low palms and the unfamiliar sounds of the tropical birds as they swooped above her head. She couldn’t think at her home. He was there. Right beside her. Confusing her thoughts. She could only escape occasionally. On those occasions, she either went to the ocean or this lonely road.

She suddenly saw a house lying off the road, set back in a palm grove. She’d never walked this far before so she didn’t know the house. A manor house. It looked deserted. She could cool off there. The vegetation was grown up around the house. It seemed as if no one had been here in a long time. She pulled the door open. She was shocked at what she saw before her.

There was a long hallway in front of her. Then an opening and, seemingly, another hall. As she walked down the hallway, she saw an old man sitting at the end of what she could only call a portal. She kept walking and felt no fear. When she got to him, he greeted her and invited her to sit. They were both silent for a few moments. Then he spoke.

”Are you going to make a decision before you run out of time?”

”How do you know anything about me?” she replied.

“You won’t live as long as I have. You must make the right decision and quickly,” he said. “You’ve already wasted too much time.”

”What should I do?” she asked the old man..

”You only regret the things you don’t do. Are you happy?” he said.

”No, but I’m afraid.”

”Do you remember, when you were young, the thrill of jumping into a creek or riding your bike or kissing your boyfriend for the first time?” he asked.

She replied that she did remember.

”Go, my dear, and feel that rush again.”

He smiled at her. She got up from her chair when he looked as if he had fallen asleep. She thought of his words all the way back to where they lived on her beautiful island. She went inside, got out her suitcase, and said she was leaving. She said goodbye to her island, only for a time, she hoped. She packed, loaded her car, and inside a few hours, she was on the road – by herself.

She had fear because of what she had just done, but deep inside, she felt as if she were 20 years old again and knew she had done the right thing. For the first time in her life, she was doing something just for herself. She was escaping.

She felt the rush because of the man in the portal. Who had he been?

#metoo

Posted in Fiction

A Story in Petroglyphs

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Dr. Michael Hurst and his team of students, from Harvard University, studying archeology and anthropology had been called in to study the rock face of a cliff in New Mexico. A new set of petroglyphs had been discovered.

”Petroglyphs are usually pictorial stories carved into rock faces by the Pueblo Native Americans who lived in this area,” Dr. Hurst explained to his students. “This small set of petroglyphs has just been found. The theory is that they are Navajo in origin.”

”Dr. Hurst, what do these petroglyphs mean?” asked one student.

”Jack, they are difficult to interpret. We’ve been able to interpret some of the most common. I’m not an expert, but the one of the left represents a person. The one on the right is more of a mystery to me. The two symbols together say that a person is doing something. Our job is to figure out what by interpreting the petroglyphs. It’s time to get to work!”

160 words

any1mark66

Posted in Fiction, The Blog Propellant, Writing

The Woman Who Screamed

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

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“Johnny, we have to get the tent set up before it rains. I can see lightning off in the distance,” Jill said to her boyfriend of two years, Johnny.

Jill and Johnny were students at a university deep in the Daniel Boone National Forest in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. After their Friday classes were over, they had decided to camp and hike for the weekend. The area is a popular hiking spot.

“How is the campfire coming along, Jill?” Johnny asked.

“Great,” Jill replied. “Almost ready to light it.”

“Now all we have left to do is hang the rope in the trees for the food and we’re finished setting up the campsite. Then we can go for a short hike before dark,” Johnny said. “Well, if it doesn’t rain. I see the lightning too but it is off in the distance. It just looks like heat lightning.

Jill and Johnny were hanging a rope for food in the trees because black bears lived in the area and that was one way to possibly keep them stealing their food. Other smaller animals would also make it a feast. Lots of other, smaller animals lived in the forest as well such as raccoons and opossum that would also steal food.

Jill and Johnny finished setting up their campsite. They each grabbed an apple for their hike. Johnny retrieved their fishing poles and bait as they left to hike, telling Jill they were going to catch their dinner in the little stream that ran near their camp. There was trout in that stream and Johnny could already taste it. It was delicious cooked over a campfire and they had brought all the fixins’ to go with the fish just in case they could catch a few.

All of a sudden they heard a scream. Johnny turned to Jill, who had stopped dead in her tracks with her mouth open. “That sounded like a woman,” he said. Jill started to run toward the sound of the scream and Johnny followed her. They looked around everywhere and saw nothing. No people. Not another scream. Nothing. There was a cliff on the right side of their trail. They tentatively looked over the side of the cliff but saw no signs that anyone had fallen.

Johnny and Jill walked slowly back to where they had dropped their tackle box and fishing poles. They decided to call 911 and let the police handle this because they didn’t know what to do next. They had no weapons on them, not even a bow and arrow.

The couple went on to the stream where they planned to catch their dinner. It had turned into a partly cloudy day, but night was approaching. They baited their fishing hooks and threw them in the water. Johnny and Jill sat there in companionable silence and suddenly, Johnny had a big bite. As he pulled the fish in, he saw it wasn’t a fish at all. It was a turtle! Neither were in the mood for a turtle for dinner.

As Johnny baited his hook to try again, Jill quietly said his name. Then she said it again. When he looked at her, she nodded her head to the side. Johnny looked up and there stood a woman, covered in mud and clutching herself around her middle, tears streaming down her face.

There was no fish for dinner that night, but Johnny and Jill were back at camp with the woman who had screamed and the police and paramedics. The police were out in the forest looking for the man who had pushed the woman off the cliff. The paramedics were tending to the woman. Her family, under the crescent moon, were profusely thanking the two college students for possibly saving her life. #blogpropellant #amwriting #amblogging #writing

Literary device – elephant

Cubing the Stories 15

 

 

 

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The last three weeks have been some of the most miserable of my life. I’m sure it has shown in my writing and not always in a good way. However, one good thing about a writer going through both good and bad situations is that it gives them so much great material to write about.

The crazy thing is that I have gone through exactly the same situation under basically the same circumstances with the same people at least two other times in my life. This is the third time. It seems that I never learn, doesn’t it? That, my friends, has been true in the past. It will not be true in the future. This time, I learned a very hard, extremely painful lesson. Much more painful than the first two times.

The first two times were painful enough and it took me years to recover. Why? I’m a sensitive and emotional person. I think that came from my dad who wore his heart on his sleeve. That made him the best dad in the world, but I’m sure he was hurt many times. I don’t exactly wear my heart on my sleeve in most situations, but I do recognize that I can be emotionally fragile in the right (or wrong) situation. I was definitely in the wrong situation this time. Probably the first two times as well. I mistook flattery for something else. People should remember that words are important. Never say words that you don’t mean or that aren’t appropriate.

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This time, I’m older, more fragile, less able to come back from being shattered into a million tiny pieces. This time,  I was very emotionally invested and the rug was pulled out from under me in a brutal way. I never got an explanation. I’m not assigning blame. I was as much to blame as anyone else involved. That doesn’t make the hurt go away.

Until the last two days, for three weeks, I’ve hardly eaten or slept. That’s what happens to me when I’m upset about something that was as important to me as this situation was. I’ve sat at my kitchen table and drank a thousand cups of tea, trying to figure it all out. I’ve talked to my good friends endlessly and they have been saints on earth to put up with me. I feel like I would have lost my mind without them.

I’ve walked around in a daze because I’ve been so distracted. I would cry and not even realize I was crying. If I could catch a couple of hours of sleep at night, I would wake up sobbing. I’ve written – a lot – because nothing else much gave me any solace. I had no family to turn to – I’m an only child and except for a few cousins I seldom hear from, my family is gone. I didn’t want to burden the couple of cousins who might actually care enough to listen. I would find myself going about my days, living in the same pattern as I did when I was involved in this situation, except there was no need now. Then, I would just cry more.

Until today. Last night, for the first time in three weeks, I slept. I didn’t have nightmares. I woke up this morning and I knew it was over. The acute grief. I felt like myself again, for the first time in a long time. I knew that this time, the third time I’ve let this happen to me, would be the last time. Never again. Never again would I allow myself to be involved in this situation. I was finally able to put it in a little box and store it away in a corner of my brain, hopefully to someday forget it forever.

Now I don’t care what happens. I can deal with it. One of my friends told me today that I sound like the person she’d always know and, funny, I feel like that person again. So whatever this situation, or any situation, throws at me, I can handle it. Bring it on! I made a terrifically bad decision and mistake. But, I was not the only person involved who made a mistake and I hope the other people involved in this situation know that.

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So why do I have a picture of Marilyn Monroe here? It’s complicated. She reminds me of many things, but right now, looking at her picture reminds me not to make bad decisions. Put yourself first. Don’t let yourself be used. Don’t assume anyone will take care of you but you. I want to look at this picture of her a lot right now.

No sympathy please though I thank you! Now I’m ready to move on. At my age, there is no time to waste. I’m going to go to the ocean. Hearing the waves and seeing the water has always soothed me. But, mainly, I want to see the ocean because I can see the horizon. I can see for miles and miles. I need that. I need to be able to see for miles and imagine what a good future is waiting for me. #amwriting #amblogging #writing #shortfiction #romance #marilynmonroe #dailyprompt

I Can See for Miles

Posted in Fiction, romance, The Blog Propellant

The Silver and the Divorce

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

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Waiting on this divorce was so hard. Ana couldn’t wait until the property settlement was worked out and it was all finally in motion. That hadn’t happened yet. Now her soon-to-be ex-husband was outside mowing the yard. He was not really supposed to be on the property and now, on top of that, someone was knocking at the door. Ana went to the door. Her husband was standing there.

“Ana, I need to come in, cool off, and get a drink of water. It’s hot out here,” Walter said, her husband. Ana, being a kind soul, lets Walter inside. Instead of walking into the kitchen to get a glass of water, Walter walked straight to the living room and the silver chest. He reached in, took the small silver chest out, and started to walk outside.

“What in the hell are you doing?” Ana cried.

“What does it look like?” Walter said.

While he was distracted, Ana grabbed the silver chest out of his hands before he could get out the door. She thought he was going to hit her.

“Give that back to me,” Walter said.

Ana said, “Walter, I inherited that silver. That is not yours. Don’t you dare think you can remove that from this house.” Walter tried to grab it from her again.

Ana’s sister was temporarily living with her during her divorce as they didn’t feel, even before this incident, they could trust Walter. Marcia was standing in the living room, getting ready to dial 911 on the phone.

Marcia said, “Walter, I’m calling the police if you don’t get out of this house immediately.”

Walter didn’t leave. Instead, he started taunting the two women. Calling Ana names. Saying terrible things. Marcia immediately called the police and they didn’t take long to show up. There must have been a cruiser in the area.

A male and female police officer exited the cruiser and Ana went outside and told the officers what had happened, over Walter’s screams and insults. Ana felt her temper about to explode as she had been through a lot with Walter already, during the course of the separation. She was trying to keep her emotions in check and having a hard time doing it.

The male officer took Walter aside to talk to him as the female officer talked to Ana. There was a restraining order against Walter. He wasn’t even supposed to be there, let alone removing property from the house. The officer’s told Walter to leave and Ana to go inside the house. Before Walter left, he continued to scream insults at Ana. Ana was about to explode and the female officer could tell. She had her hand on Ana’s arm.

Finally, Walter said the wrong thing before the officer’s could get him off the property. He screamed insults about Ana’s family and the fact she had inherited a number of items from them. This was a sensitive subject between them as Ana’s family had always been good to Walter and loved him. It was enough to cause Ana’s temper to finally blow.

Suddenly, Ana did not care that two police officers were standing in the yard with she and Walter. She saw the metal gas can on the lawn right next to her and she picked it up and swung it at Walter’s head. Not once, but twice. Had Walter not ducked, she would have hit him with it. All the while, Ana was returning the screaming insults at Walter as he began to call her a crazy whore. He had pushed her too far.

The action was almost too fast for the police officers but as Walter came toward Ana, the male police officer grabbed Walter as the female police officer just kept her hand on Ana’s arm and quietly told her to shut up right now. Walter had clearly violated the restraining order but Ana had also tried to assault him, even though she did it to protect herself, her sister, and her property.

Walter was sent away with a warning not to come back on the property while he was under the restraining order. Ana was warned, by a giggling female police officer, not to assault her husband no matter how tempting it was. Everyone went to their respective corners.

As Ana and Marcia tried to relax that evening by reading and watching television, they could hear Walter’s motorcycle circling and circling the block. Ana thought of her silver and decided to sleep with it under her bed. #amwriting #amblogging #writing #romance #divorce #blogpropellant

Read Part 2, The Silver and the Divorce HERE

@Copyright Rosemary Carlson 2016

 

 

 

Posted in Fantasy and Magic, Fiction, romance

The Play: The Power of Magic, Part 2

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

To read Part 1 of The Play,  click here The Play: The Power of Magic

Josh and April, after reading the script for The Play: The Power of Magic, decided something was wrong. It didn’t seem complete. They decided to send it back to the theatre department’s scriptwriters, make some suggestions, and ask their opinions. Two days passed and it was getting close to time to try to find actors for the play. Josh and April were getting nervous. Then, the scriptwriter’s sent back the script and they were in agreement. They expanded the script with some changes.

Josh explains the revised script. He tells April that Rachael did, indeed help give Peter back his youth with her magic for a little while. But no man would be content with regaining his youth just for a little while. The scriptwriter’s realized that was the flaw in the script. Instead, it continued like this:

The reason the fantasy only last for a little while was because Peter was also involved with a woman named Prissy. One of the main reasons Peter felt old was because Prissy made him feel old with her judgmental attitude and her criticisms of him. Prissy was a woman old before her time and wanted to control every aspect of Peter’s life. Peter thought he needed Prissy.

Usually, there is a reason a man stays with such a woman. We all have flaws and, in Peter’s case, his flaw caused him to stay with Prissy – his need for the security that money brought. Prissy came from a wealthy family and she had the money, together with Peter’s money, to allow them to do whatever they wanted, including the travel that Peter loved. Peter had traded his freedom and basic happiness for money and the temporary pleasure it brought him. In turn, he had to bow to Prissy.

Peter had known Rachael and her magic fairy dust for many years. Somehow, they had never quite connected. This time, Rachael could help Peter regain his youth and vitality and they rediscovered the love they had once known and had even almost once acted on. That magic wand was powerful. Peter and Rachael reconnected in a way neither ever knew was possible through the magic wand and fairy dust. They fell deeply in love.

Despite the love between them, sometimes love is not enough. They had to come back down to earth and Peter realized that Rachael did not have the financial resources that Prissy did. Their combined money would not have taken them as far. When Prissy found out about the relationship between Peter and Rachael, she threatened to take it all away from Peter. He bowed to the pressure, thinking he valued money and travel more than he valued love. Even Rachael’s magic fairy dust, magic wand, magnet, smiling face, and other tools of the magic trade could not compete with the almighty dollar.

A tragedy did indeed occur. Peter went back to Prissy and cut off all contact with Rachael. Rachael’s heart was broken as were her magic powers. The fairy dust would never be used again. The magic wand and magnet were dumped in an old chest in the attic. Rachael went back to her life, alone, as she couldn’t love anyone but Peter. Peter had promised her, the last night they were together, that he would always be in her life. He was gone. Her love was gone. #blogpropellant #amwriting #amblogging #writing #fantasy #NecessaryFic #shortstorymag #shortfiction8