Written for Sue & Gerry’s Weekly Prompts
Weekend Challenge, using the term ‘Pros &
Cons’. Here’s were the prompt took me.
Tag: Hurt
Baby Come Back
Written for Thursday Inspiration #300 –
“All Out Of Love” and for RDP FRIDAY!
RETURN! Here’s my contribution.
So Alone: An Ovi
Written for Ovi Poetry Challenge #70
Our inspiration word is “empty”
and this is my ovi,
The Apartment: The Continuing Story of Harvey and Fiona
Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are encouraged
to get creative in 250 words or less using the photo prompt
as inspiration. This is my 2nd story of Harvey and Fiona.
For another look at the 1st installment, click here.
Harvey and Fiona were as different as a gorilla and a swan but they had an undeniable chemistry and started falling in love. No one was more surprised than Fiona .… except her parents.
There was a major obstacle her parents couldn’t overlook – Harvey was Jewish. Fiona’s very Irish-Catholic father hated Harvey, calling him ‘Christ killer’ and ‘kike’. Her mother was crushed. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Can’t you see he’s no good for you? I don’t trust him, Fina girl!” she warned, crying into her apron. Fiona would not be dissuaded; with a heavy heart she closed the door of her childhood home behind her and never looked back.
Harvey and Fiona were married in city hall, the judge and his clerk their only guests and witnesses. After a weekend honeymoon in Niagara Falls, the couple settled into Harvey’s tiny apartment – a walk-up on the fifth floor with a depressing view of factories and government buildings.
Harvey worked the graveyard shift as a printer at the local newspaper, seven days a week from midnight till 8:00 AM. His fingernails were perpetually stained with black ink. The first morning he came home from work and saw the newly decorated apartment, he yelled furiously at Fiona for spending his money on unnecessary things. Uncaring, he left ink stains on the new bedspread when he sat down to remove his shoes.
Fiona cried silently in the kitchen. Harvey sidled up behind her, kissed a spot below her ear and she leaned into him.
NAR©2024
250 Words
This is “Love With The Proper Stranger” by Jack Jones
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Of Memories And Dreams
Written for Friday Fictioneers where our gracious host, Rochelle,
encourages us to get creative in 100 words or less using this photo
as our inspiration. Here is my 100-word photo-inspired story.
Funny thing about dreams and memories; sometimes it’s difficult to tell them apart. Sometimes I just don’t want to.
That summer …. after the breakup …. I needed to be alone …. to think …. to put the hurt behind me. A few days at that motel on the beach seemed like a good idea at the time.
Everywhere I walked …. everything I saw …. reminded me of you. The scent of salt water. Scattered shells and seaweed. That song. Hot summer nights. Stars so close you could touch them.
Memories and dreams of you …. they’re funny that way.
NAR©2024
100 Words
This is “In Dreams” by Roy Orbison
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
To Hang The Moon
Written for the dVerse Prosery Prompt by Amy Woolard:
“What does it matter that the stars we see are already dead”
“What does it matter that the stars we see are already dead? What does that even mean, Margie?”
“Oh, Nell. If I have to explain it to you, it loses its gravitas, its pathos, doesn’t it?”
“Gravitas? Pathos? I’m sorry .… when were you named chief cook, bottlewasher and poet laureate?”
Margie gave her friend a dismissive eye roll before turning her back, busying herself with little scraps of paper on her desk.
There was a time the two were like sisters, cherishing a bond they never found with anyone else. Now they barely recognized each other; their conversations were stilted to the point of being painful.
And it all came down to Nicole, a newcomer in their exclusive inner circle …. a renaissance woman and Margie thought she hung the moon.
“I miss us, Margie”
Intense silence. Spoken words were never as wounding.
NAR©2024
144 Words
This is “Sisters Of The Moon” by Fleetwood Mac
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.
LIKE A KNIFE IN THE BACK
The prompt for
Stream of Consciousness Saturday
is to include the words “to me”.
This is my response.
Whenever there’s an upset in my life, I ask myself the same question: “How could this be happening to me again?”
Sometimes I wonder if I’m a total sap to give myself entirely to a friendship and at some point end up getting hurt. I don’t know …. maybe I’m delusional but I expect people to treat me the same as I treat them. Perhaps “expect” is too strong a word; after all, do I really have the right to expect people to behave a certain way just because I think they should?
Someone once told me my expectations are unrealistic and that I can’t “will” someone to act or react a certain way simply because I want them to. Perhaps he was right. I think about his words when I feel hurt or angry.
So, yes, I was hurt once again by a friend going behind my back and lying to me. This leaves me wondering if I bring this sort of behavior on myself or if I’m just unfortunate with some of the friendships I have made?
One thing I simply cannot tolerate is lying. I have a personal pact with myself never to tell lies. I know people lie all the time; is it too much to ask those near and dear not to lie to me?
Writing about this recent hurt is cleansing and I have decided I will put it behind me. What gives me some small amount of satisfaction is the fact that the person who lied to me knows that I know. This friend certainly went to a lot of trouble to cover all the tracks but they weren’t 100% successful. First of all, I am nobody’s fool and I catch on fast. Secondly, when you involve a third party into the plot, things can go horribly wrong very quickly. And last, my friend slipped up by making a comment online which I saw through immediately; as I said, I am nobody’s fool. The plotting and scheming behind my back compounded with the lie is particularly vicious; it was entirely intentional. You can’t get much lower than that.
Well, while I am going through this cleansing period, I am not above admitting that I hope the liar(s) are squirming and feeling guilty about stabbing me in the back. This was a grievous act on their part; could an admission and an apology be on the way?
NAR © 2023
#SoCS
This is “Positively 4th Street” by Dylan
The Elephant's Trunk 