And the Phone Rang – Flash Fiction

The Phone

The Phone

The antique rotary phone rang with a blaring ring that was loud enough to wake the dead. Of course she bolted out of bed and reached for the receiver before another deafening brring could escape the damned machine.  A muffled “hello” was muttered into the mouthpiece as she fell back into the pillows.

God, why did Sears need to call to remind her that the repair was tomorrow?  Couldn’t the automated machine have called later?  And who in their right mind would want to have this phone by their bed?  It should be installed in a padded room where the sound would be slightly muffled.

No, she was not a morning person, and ringing phones did not help matters.

 

Rotary phones…. so much fun.  I happen to have one by my bed to try it out.  The above is a semi-autobiographical incident from this morning.  Okay, fine, you got me. It did happen, and it did not help that I had an antihistamine drugging up my system.

Signing off

~Kate

I Feel Like Sushi! – Flash Fiction

“I feel like sushi!” she announced as she looked up from her book.

He looked at her cautiously. “Is that a metaphor?” he asked warily. It was common for her to spit out strange metaphors at the oddest of moments.

Her laugh was like little bells.  “Heavens no! I want sushi.”

“Well that’s nigh impossible now,” he said, indicating the clock that read 1:30AM. “Plus, you really shouldn’t be eating that now,” he said, hinting at her very pregnant state.

“I know, but it sounds so good,” she sighed.

They went back to reading.

“How about tacos?” she blurted out.

“That we can do,” he said, smiling at her very strange switch of foods, but sliding out of the covers and slipping into his jeans, nonetheless. Ah, the things he suffered through to make his wife happy. But tacos sounded good to him too.

 

It’s amazing what kind of flash fiction you can get out of the back of a magazine with an ad for Siri. The first line is from that ad.  Enjoy.

Signing off

~Kate

Maybe He Had A Better Reason For Leaving – Flash Fiction

farmers-wife-magazine Maybe he had a better reason for leaving. Maybe it was the summer sun that first started the wanderlust. Whatever the reason, on day Janis watched him walk out of their front gate, not knowing when she would next see him.

He left no plans, no way to contact him; He only said he’d be back in the fall. Whatever that meant.

Janis watched him close the white picket gate, the one he had built last summer and walk towards town proper. She dried her hands on the dish towel she held, just shaking her 33-06,FrmrsWfhead.

“Silly man,” she muttered, smoothing down her apron. She wasn’t surprised he was leaving. Every couple of years he’d get this look in his eye and by the next day he’d have his knapsack packed. He’d go off finding adventure, though he never told Janis what he ended up doing on his treks. He could be gone a week or months. Once he was gone only two days, but another he was gone almost a year.

She didn’t know if he had another woman, she hated him if he did, but she doubted him fooling around. There were plenty of women around here who would have gladly taken him into their beds. No, the look in his eyes was not the lust for human flesh, but of fresh air, mountain peaks, and sandy beaches. Sometimes she would find bits and pieces of nature hiding down at the bottom o f his knapsack when he’d return. A small shell, a green rock, and once she found an old arrowhead.

For Janis the reprieve of married life was always a chance for a renewal of herself.  She slept in, not needing to make his breakfast. She enjoyed her poached eggs on toast without complaint. She tried new hairstyles and bought a new outfit or two. She would hire a couple of local girls and they would tear apart the house, cleaning it from top to bottom, then Janis would rearrange the furniture or paint a room. She’d have a gardener come in and give the whole yard a nice clean up, getting all the spots He never got to when he was at home. She’d splurge on a new rose bush or something exotic and fancy that would last only the summer season.

She’d invite her friends over for luncheons and teas. They’d gab about kids and husbands, though Janis never mentioned Him other than to say he was on sabbatical. They all knew what that meant. The ladies would discuss flower arrangement and wallpaper options. Painting versus staining re-purposed furniture. Then Janis would show off her new redone room and all the ladies would ooh and ah, commenting on how they wished their husbands would let them redo a room whenever they wanted to.

The friends would leave and Janis would clean up the house to a spotless state, fix a small meal and eat dinner watching one of her favorite movies. Something he wouldn’t like and try to talk over. She’s go to bed whenever she wanted, sometimes late, sometimes early. And every night till he came home, Janis would cry herself to sleep.

Who would have thought a short story or flash fiction piece could come out of a Harbrace College Handbook?  The first line and title of this piece was a line of correction under commas in my Harbrace. I was reading it the other day and this line caught my attention and I knew I had to write something. Not exactly sure if I have the commas in the correct spots (I’m a comma girl and I use way more than I ever should), but I’m happy with how this turned out. I have a fifties or sixties esque thought pattern in my head for Janis. Like she does her hair in the flip styles and wears big patterned dresses with bold flowers. Well, whatever she looks like, this was fun to write out the other day in a matter of moments on a piece of lined paper. Sometimes inspiration strikes from the funniest of places. And this story did not even come close to what I had in my mind, but hey, sometimes the character takes you places you never knew were hiding.

Signing off

~Kate

Blue-Eyed Smitten – Being Thwarted – Flash Fiction

Part Two of Blue-Eyed Smitten

I had been thwarted. I had spent a week of trying to find a plausible reason to speak to Mr. Blue-Eyes. Something that didn’t sound inane and ridiculous. Fortunately, due to his distracting beautifulness, I actually hadn’t paid attention to something he’d told me. I had a reason to call! I played our conversation over and over in my head practicing and discarding what wouldn’t work. I knew what I was going to say.

I dialed the number carefully, rehearsing what I had practiced saying. I waited through the answering service information, heart pounding. I pressed the extension number.

“Is he in?” I asked the receptionist.

He was! But he was with a patient, could I hold while the question was asked?

Now I stare at the silent phone, defeated. Deflated. My question was answered. I had my information. I did not get what I had wanted.

I had wanted to hear his voice. To teas and ask him my question, while making it obvious I was interested in him. Impossible to convey that to the receptionist.

Cross plan B off the list. Now what?

 

 

There is that moment in the film Serendipity, where Jonathan Trager (John Cusack) goes to take Sarah’s number from her and a gust of wind comes up and blows the slip of paper away.  It’s that moment when “fate’ is telling the two to back off. That it isn’t time.

I am a huge believer in fate, Destiny, and God.  All interact completely.  So clearly, this was not my time and ‘fate’ was telling me to back off.  My only consolation is that the receptionist did have to go ask him my question, and she did have to use my name.  And I am supposed to make an appointment in 6 months…. Plan C?

Enjoy the continuation of my life in flash fiction form.

Signing off

~Kate

Blue-eyed Smitten – Flash Fiction

jordon l legault edit blue eyesI was smitten. Staring up in to the most beautiful blue eyes on God’s green earth, with lashes that were too beautiful to belong to a man, I was dumb struck.  Eyes that were  only inches from mine. So close. I could drown in eyes this blue. Bluer than mine. Like those icebergs you see that are so blue they seem unreal.  And yet, this was the most awkward position for a me to be in; on my back with a beautiful man looking down at me. There I was with my mouth wide open and dental tools scraping away at my teeth.  Oh yes, this was a flattering way to tell a guy that you could drown in his eyes.  Why did awkward always happen when a gorgeous man, with no ring on his left hand, was anywhere near me?

A moment of real flash fiction from Monday. I never knew a man’s eyes could be so gosh darn beautiful. Or that a man could be so drop dead gorgeous. Well, that was the best visit to the dentist ever.  The picture is not of his eyes. His eyes were so much better. However. Enjoy.

Signing off

~Kate

The Lure of Officer Statham – Flash Fiction

A bit of flash fiction for you, my lovelies.  You know I love throwing out bits from my characters, as I seem to do it on a more regular basis.  This is about my two main gals, Rena and Mia.

After longingly staring at one of our local police officers who I swear looks like the actor William Levy from the back, and thinking about Mr. Statham, who happens to be a police officer, I came up with this little piece.  Enjoy you all on this lovely October Friday.

I don’t have the patience for finding a back picture of William Levy, so this’ll have to do.

Jason Statham in a suit

Jason Statham in a suit

Rena stacked her books and grabbed her Americano as Mia held the front door of her store open.

“Think that will last you a couple days?” Mia asked.

“It should.  I will probably have them back to you by the weekend most likely.  Thanks for loaning them to me.  Oh, hello, Rafe,” Rena said with smile at the tall Scottish man.

“Rena, love,” Rafe smiled, but arched a brow at the books she was holding.  “Quite a stack you have there.  Plans to read a bunch?”

“Oh, I have some research to do and Mia always loans me some of her books.  Besides, one can never have too many books……,” Rena’s words trailed off as the Police Chief’s black cruiser drove slowly by the shop and parked at the police station next to the city building.

Mia frowned at Rena.  “What are you staring at, Rena?” she asked then made an agreeing sound of pleasure as she followed Rena’s gaze.

“Jason Statham,” Rena answered with a feminine sigh.  She bumped Mia’s shoulder in their typical friendship move then leaned against her a bit as both women looking longingly at the officer who stepped out of the shiny black car.

Rafe, startled, looked at both the women.  “The actor?”

“No, but he looks just like the actor so that’s what all the girls in this town call him.  See?” Mia answered absently, then jerked her head in the direction of the man dressed in his police gear.  The man seemed oblivious to the stares from several women around Main Street as he grabbed several things from the front of his car.

Jolene Baker, the city clerk, stood out front of the city offices watering the pots of vibrant fall mums.  Her watering can was poised over the overflowing pots as water poured indiscriminately all over the sidewalk.  Up the street at the deli on the corner, two high school girls were overcome with a fit of giggles as they watched the handsome man.

Rafe looked back and forth between Mia and Rena, then at the women in town.

“Is this a common occurrence?” he asked.

“Hm?” Rena asked.  She reached up and fluffed her hair in the universal gesture of a flirting female.

“Does town stop dead when he’s around?” Rafe asked again.

Mia glanced at Rafe then laughed.  “Pretty much.  At least all the women stop dead.  Town’s a bit quiet today, so I’m only counting five women staring, not counting me or Rena.”

“Five? Who are the other two?” Rafe asked and looked around.

Mia jerked her head at the hairdressers three doors up where two more women were standing at the open screen door.  “Shawna and Louise Pratt.  Shawna’s the hairdresser and Louise is old enough to be his mother, but honestly, who wouldn’t look at that?”

“As I always say, ” Rena said, “Jason Statham has it made.  Men want to be him and women want to be with him.  Chief Harte is no exception.”  Rena sighed and turned  to Rafe as Chief Harte stepped inside the station.  “And if you think he’s all we get to drool over, you should see Officer “William Levy”.”  Rena made air quotes around his name.  “His real name is Jeremy Ross, Officer Ross, but he looks just like this super sexy actor who was on a reality dance competition show, so that’s what I call him.  His assets are just divine.  Ooh la la, il est tres magnifique.”  Rena kissed her fingertips in a completely Gallic gesture.

“The sad part of it all is neither one of the officers notice any of the available women,” Mia said with a pout.  Then she had the grace to look chagrined at Rafe’s raised brow.

“Okay, I don’t actually mean me because of dating Phil, but I can appreciate.  Just like I can appreciate how you look.  I’m talking Rena here.  She’s been making eyes at him all summer and he doesn’t notice one whit.”

“Who, the Chief or the officer?” Rafe asked.

“Either one,” Rena said with a sigh.  “Well, I must be going now that he’s gone inside and will be there for a while. No point in waiting around for him emerge again.  By Mia.  Rafe.”  Rena waved and marched off down the street towards her car.

Sorry that was a bit of a longish piece.  But I hope you all enjoy it.

Signing off

~Kate

When He Woke That Morning – Flash Fiction

When he woke that morning, it was one of those perfect summer days where the sky is so blue, the sun so bright and the smells so summery.  He couldn’t resist.  He got out of bed, brushed his teeth and took a shower.  He stopped in the kitchen for a moment to eat one of the fresh peaches on his counter.  He grabbed his house key, credit card and cell phone and strapped it to his wrist.

He stepped out the door and took a deep breath then he started running.  Right up Main Street.  It was a slow morning, so there were not very many cars.  He ran leisurely.

He waved to Mrs. Dunbrowsky who took one look at him and screamed before running into her house and slamming the door.  He frowned but kept running.

By the time he came to the center of town, three other women had screamed at him, one pulling her young son inside, shouting that she was going to call the police.

He didn’t know what was wrong with everyone.  And it got even worse in town when cars screeched to a halt, more screaming ensued and there was even a couple shouts from the men at the coffee shop.

When Officer Brown arrested him, he still wasn’t sure what all the fuss was about. 

Old Joe White sat with his coffee on the corner and watched all the action.  It was nice when the sleepy town got a bit crazy.  And seeing Tim Walker run down the street naked as a blue jay had been definitely some action.

I don’t know how the subject of someone running naked down the street came into my conversation with my father, but I pictured something like this and couldn’t stop laughing.

Enjoy!

Signing off

~Kate

Before He Could Think – Flash Fiction

She ran down the street, right up to the side of his UPS truck. He stuck his head out of the window to smile at her. Before he could react, she reached up and held his face in both her hands as she pressed her mouth to his. His mustache brushed her upper lip and he froze. Before he could even think, it was all over and she was stepping back, a wicked gleam in her eye. She turned and sauntered off, skirts swirling like water, hips swaying goddess-like, and her wildly curling hair, black a raven’s wind, snapping and sparking with her cheekiness.

 

Just some fun flash fiction.  I had this idea, one that I’d actually like to try out, but since I can’t, I put it down here.  Enjoy.

Writing on

~Kate

It Was The Accent — Flash Fiction

The Scot lounged back in his chair, his glass of beer poised at his mouth.  “The ladies used to flock to me and I could never figure out why,” he mused modestly.

She arched a brow in his direction, surprised he had such an unfocused view of himself.

“You do know it was the accent,” she stated so casually, as if her words were an aside thought, that for a moment she thought he hadn’t heard her.  She had taken two sips of her drink before he finally answered.

“No, that can’t be what it was,” he said, a bit of a question lilting up the end of his statement.

“Trust me.  It was the accent.  Women go for the brogue,” then she laughed at her slight rhyme.

He laughed slightly, hesitantly, still disbelieving her.  He settled back into his chair a bit more, contemplating and wondering if she was right.  He’d have to think on it more, but she had a knowing look in her eye.

“What?” he asked.

“I like the brogue.  I could listen to you all day. Why else do you think I’m sitting here having a beer with you for no apparent reason?”

 

There is a man I know, a very, very charming Scotsman who was a part of our community for ages it seemed.  He has since left and been gone for three years.  Just last Friday he came back for a very short visit and I got to see him.  It was like he hadn’t been gone at all.  I once had a conversation with him about how all the girls at, I think Stanford, flocked to him and he wasn’t sure why. (he was in his lat 40′s to 50′s)  I looked at him and said ‘You do know it was the accent.’  I don’t think he believed me, but honestly, if you heard this man tell stories, joke and flirt with you, you would understand.  His accent is incredible and he uses it to his advantage.   Hearing him say ‘It’s good to see you, dearie’ is quite remarkable. And he did say that to me when I saw him last week along with giving me a very nice long hug then he spat out some random Gaelic saying how beautiful everything was. A feast for the ears.

He has now left our town, and I wonder if I will ever see him again.  Charming man.  Charming accent.  Trust me, it is definitely the accent.

Well, Doughan is kind of just charming himself.

Signing off

~Kate

Flash Fiction — Dragonfly Wings

Close up of a dragonfly on a Lotus Flower Bud ...

Close up of a dragonfly on a Lotus Flower Bud on green background – IMG_7149 (Photo credit: Bahman Farzad)

The woman cackled as she held her mortar and pestle grinding up the iridescent dragonfly wings.  This last ingredient would be the killing touch to her potion.  The fine hairs would cause her victim to choke, drawing blood and making the poison infuse his throat.  He would pay for his actions.  He would die an agonizing death.  And she would laugh.  She would stand over his convulsing body and laugh at how easy her revenge had been.

 

I went to a symposium this last week on dragonflies and damselflies.  While there, one of the things that caught my attention was how dragonfly wings are made up of a material similar to our nails.  Very hard and durable.  I also found out that there are microscopic hairs on the wings, which is why other predators do not eat the wings of dragonflies.

I thought this was very interesting and I thought to myself, what a great bit of information to use for someone making a poisonous potion.  Supposedly the hairs can irritate the throat.  What better way to kill someone off than by having them ingest something that could damage their throat and maybe make the poison that much more affective?  So, hence, this little flash fiction piece.

Signing off

~Kate