Written for Thursday Inspiration #305 –
“What Difference Does It Make”.
Here’s my inspirational response.
Tag: Relationships
Time Won’t Let Me
Written for Thursday Inspiration #302 –
“Right Place, Wrong Time”.
Here’s my inspirational response.
October Road
This week at Glyn Wilton’s Mixed Music Bag,
he’s asking us to write about a song in which
the title or a line mentions the current month.
Here’s my October artist and his song.
Lamb Stew
Looking through my early stories, I found one from 2017,
my first year on WordPress, with only 4 likes and no comments;
I thought I’d give it another shot. Any similarity between the MC
and yours truly is very much intended. I hope you enjoy Lamb Stew.
Our Little Rendezvous
Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are asked
to get creative in 250 words or less using the photo
prompt below for inspiration. Here is my story.
“Woods. Roger Woods. Please check again” I implored the desk clerk at the Hotel Moderne.
“I’m sorry, madame, there is no reservation for that name.” The young man looked at me with a mixture of embarrassment and pity.
“You must be mistaken” I replied, my voice shaking.
“There is no mistake, madame. Perhaps you have the wrong hotel” the clerk suggested, offering me an out.
Of course I didn’t have the wrong hotel! Roger and I had been meeting here the second weekend of every month for three years.
I checked my phone for missed text messages or calls from Roger; there were none. Rather than stay in the lobby looking distraught and abandoned, I sat in the lounge and ordered a martini. I had a clear view of the front desk on the left and the entrance on the right. I’d be able to see Roger the moment he arrived.
After thirty minutes and two martinis, I began feeling paranoid. It was painfully obvious, at least to me, that I looked like a lonesome and tedious woman who had been stood up.
I became aware of someone approaching. Expecting to see Roger, I looked up, smiling; it was the concierge. Whispering discreetly, he handed me a note: “Dearest Cecile. I cherish our little rendezvous but it’s time to go our separate ways. Farewell. Roger”
‘Our little rendezvous!‘ I was shattered. Just like that, as unexpectedly as it began, it was over.
Looking straight ahead, I gracefully exited the hotel.
NAR©2024
250 Words
This is “Non, Je ne regrette rien (No, I do not regret anything)” by Edith Piaf
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.
Eunice Blackthorne
Written for Six Sentence Story where we are
challenged to incorporate the word “frequency”
into a story of exactly six sentences. Here’s my six.
Immediately upon arriving at their destination, Camilla bolted from the car, slammed the door and stormed off, leaving a bewildered Nigel alone to weigh his options: go after her, call her after she’s had a chance to cool down or declare this date a complete failure and forget about Camilla all together, something he was not keen on as he was not the quitting type …. plus, he couldn’t get Camilla’s amazing breasts out of his head; after some thought, Nigel decided to go after her but first he needed to find a parking spot and then purchase two cappuccinos, one for him and one for her, in lieu of an awkward verbal apology.
Camilla was at her desk, obviously engrossed in a conversation of great importance as she was speaking rapidly in an animated manner to a tall, thin woman with blonde hair when she noticed Nigel coming her way and quicky ushered the woman into a back room, closing the door behind them; however, Nigel was determined to wait it out when just then an unidentified man approached and informed him that “Ms. Saunders had left the building and gave no indication when or if she would be returning that day”; this new intel pissed Nigel off royally since he was not prepared to have Camilla pull a disappearing act on him .… a position he found alien, embarrassing and profoundly uncomfortable.
In a huff, Nigel stormed out of the library and quickly walked to his car, arriving just in time to see Camilla and the blonde woman sliding into a white convertible which, of course, he followed, managing to stay far enough away without losing sight of the car which travelled a route which was extremely familiar to Nigel; the more they drove the more convinced Nigel became that he knew were the white car was headed but when the convertible abruptly turned off the road into a parking garage, Nigel was none-the-less astounded when he realized that Camilla’s companion lived in the same apartment building as he did …. or perhaps it was Camilla who lived there …. and just as the convertible entered the garage, Camilla glanced over her shoulder and, spotting Nigel’s car, was filled with consternation.
Nigel kicked himself for not having learned more about Ms. Camilla Saunders while on their coffee dates for if he had he would have known this mystery woman was Camilla’s oldest and dearest friend from college, Eunice Blackthorne, who was also Camilla’s roommate right here in his apartment building; the agenda now was for Nigel to increase the frequency of his visits to his buddy, Vince, the doorman …. shoot the breeze …. buy him a coffee …. give him a few hot tips on the ponies and get him to spill the beans about Camilla, her blonde friend and which apartment was theirs.
Meanwhile, Camilla was pacing the floor of the apartment she shared with Eunice; men like Nigel enervated her, demoralized, frightened and reminded her entirely too much of her overbearing, demanding, unprincipled father, brothers, classmates, boyfriends, bosses …. in fact, every man she had ever known in her life …. and knowing Camilla had had it with men was exactly what Eunice wanted to hear.
Little did any of them know they were headed for rocky times.
NAR©2024
This is “Before He Cheats” by Carrie Underwood
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.
Friends & Family Friday 5.24
It’s true that Miley Cyrus has become a huge musical star, but did you know she has quite the talented family? We’re all familiar with her famous father, Billy Ray Cyrus, her legendary godmother, Dolly Parton – but what of her four talented siblings?
The youngest child in the Cyrus clan is 24-year-old Noah who has carved out quite an impressive career of her own. In terms of fame, Noah is probably second only to Miley. Her breakout hit, “Make Me (Cry)” earned her a spot on the Billboard Hot 100 right out of the gate at the age of 16. Since that time, her career has only grown. Her unique brand of thoughtful pop has made her one of the most enticing young acts in the game today.
In an interview with American fashion magazine V, Noah Cyrus said this about “Make Me (Cry)” and her video co-performer, Labrinth: “It was really conversational. Labrinth had a chorus, and we started just going back and forth writing lyrics together. It turned into being about a toxic love.” Teen Vogue described the song as “a gut-wrenching power-ballad that will resonate with anyone who has suffered a broken heart, reinforcing the idea that it’s possible to be lonely even when in a relationship and that being with someone can create more pain than being alone.”
The video depicts the two singers waking up in their respective beds with their partners who are seemingly disinterested in their affection. In alternating shots, we see Noah’s sadness, and then Labrinth’s, and back again as they sing about their significant others. As the song reaches its climax, we can see the duo at the same time in split screen; their raging words give off major “wrecking ball” vibes …. deep thoughts from the mind (and pen) of such a young artist.
This is “Make Me (Cry)” by Noah Cyrus featuring Labrinth
Thanks for stopping by and playing a tune with me.
See you on the flip side. 😎
NAR©2024
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Maximus Overdrive
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a fan of the great Mel Brooks.
Combine that with my fascination with gladiator movies
and my own sense of humor and this is the result.
Originally written in 2021, I’ve done some tweaking
and now present to you one of my favorite fun stories.
I hope you enjoy ‘Maximus Overdrive’!
Maximus Gluteus caught a glimpse of his reflection on a sheet of polished tin which his wife Labia used as a mirror. He had really let himself go! He was a disgrace, not just to himself but the entire world of gladiators.
Originally known as Maximus Biceptis, he was no longer the god-like hero of the arena. Where was that formidable champion of the amphitheater? Gone were the defined, well-built curves visible through his tunic, the muscles straining against the fabric at the forearms, biceps and chest. His sculpted calves, broad back and wide neck were flaccid, as were other parts of his anatomy which Labia was quick to point out.
Maximus was not only popular with the general public; he was greatly admired by the Roman emperor Sartorius for having won many battles against highly skilled adversaries. The emperor was particularly impressed by his heroics and rewarded Maximus with more palaces and riches than he could have asked for; he went so far as to honor Maximus with his prized solid gold chariot and team of Berber horses.
Besides gladiator matches, there was something else the Romans were famous for – partying! Those wild and crazy worshipers of Bacchus, the god of wine, knew how to have a good time. Maximus and Labia threw lavish Bacchanalia and partied like it was 999; debaucheries of every kind were practiced freely and enjoyed by all. Party-goers would spend uninhibited all-nighters dancing, watching circus performers, feasting on fattening foods and decadent desserts, engaging in unbridled sex and, of course, drinking themselves into a stupor.
Labia, a once-famous gladiatrix, was considered an exotic rarity by all who knew her. Attempting to maintain her impressively athletic yet feminine physique, she exercised frequently in the gymnasium and swam in the warm baths. Maximus, however, had become lazy and spiritless. He encamped himself in the large atria overlooking the Mediterranean, reclining for hours on end in the lavish gardens which had been planted with grape orchards, orange groves and trees bearing olives, figs, almonds, walnuts and chestnuts.
Maximus reveled in the good life, laying on his chaise lounge listening to poetry while the palace harpist played softly. Naked dancing nymphs performed for him, slaves fanned him with exquisite peacock feathers and beautiful servant girls fed him cheese, pheasant, figs dipped in honey, meaty chestnuts and wine. A life of gluttony and pleasure suited Maximus; he was a well-sated man.
Maximus became so fat, Labia refused to have sex with him. Even his concubines were repulsed by him but knew they had to do the deed or risk being executed. It got so bad, the poor girls resorted to pulling straws to see who would share their master’s bed. The ladies, however, had little to fear; most nights Maximus was so drunk he was in no condition to get it on …. even with the sensual songs of Marvin Gayeus playing in the background.
It didn’t take long before Labia began spending more and more time away from the palace. She would go for long walks along the seashore with her beloved greyhounds, Lingus and Limbus. It was during one of those walks that Labia first laid eyes on the newest and most popular gladiator who recently transferred to Rome – Maximus Erectus.
He was quite a sight to behold, especially when exercising naked on the beach. To say that he was well-built was an understatement. Erectus was perfection from head to toe. Tall, blond and powerful, sinewy muscles rippled down his arms and legs and across his Herculean back and chest. He was broad-shouldered with a flat, rock-hard abdomen. His body was bronzed from the sun and glistened with sweat. He was one ripped Roman!
Labia stared transfixed at the spectacle before her; even the dogs sat in quiet attention. Finishing up his exercise routine, Erectus ran toward the sea, jumped into the waves and swam for a long while. When he came out, he spotted Labia standing on the beach watching him. Without any hesitation or embarrassment, he walked directly to her. Smiling broadly, he reached down and patted Lingus and Limbus, laughing as they responded by happily wagging their tails. Labia’s tail had already been wagging.
The two struck up a conversation. All the while they were speaking Labia’s eyes kept drifting down toward Erectus’ magnificent member which seemed to take on a life of its own. When Labia mentioned she, too, enjoyed exercising and swimming, Erectus commented that she looked like she was in terrific shape and invited her to join him on the beach whenever she desired a partner.
Now, there’s no denying Labia had a few years on Erectus, but she was still firm and supple. She decided to join him on the beach the following week; it wasn’t long before the duo became partners in every way.
Labia packed her bags and left Maximus Gluteus for her new lover. Tossing everything into the golden chariot, she clicked her tongue and the team of Berbers trotted off. Labia laughed gaily as she shouted over her shoulder, “So long, fat ass!”
But Maximus Gluteus was too drunk to hear her.
That night Emperor Sartorius had a dream that he would be overthrown. He consulted the wisest philosophers and dream interpreters who all agreed this would indeed be his fate. Fearing torture and a slow death at the hands of his enemies, Sartorius made it known that should such an uprising occur, Maximus Gluteus was to be summoned to execute him; he trusted Maximus would end his life as quickly and painlessly as possible.
Sartorius was indeed overthrown and, per his wishes, Maximus was summoned. However, since Labia had absconded with the golden chariot, Maximus had no choice but to travel by foot to emperor’s palace. Alas, his massive weight slowed him down terribly and Maximus did not arrive in time to save Sartorius from an excruciating death.
Due to that unfortunate event, the expression “Lardum Asina” came about. Today we know it as “Lard Ass”.
NAR©2024
From the comedic genius mind of Mel Brooks, this is a clip from the movie “History Of The World, Part I” featuring Bea Arthur and Mel Brooks who wrote, directed and produced the 1981 film.
This is “Entry Of The Gladiators” by Julius Fucik
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Lower Forty Soliloquy
Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are asked to be creative
in 250 words or less, using this image as inspiration. This is my story
“Where you been, girl? You got anythin’ goin’ on in that head of yours besides them nonsense rhymes? Your Ma’s been cookin’ all day and she sure coulda used your help with them black-eyed peas but you was nowhere to be found. You best not-a been hangin’ ‘round that good-for-nuthin’ boy again, girl. If I told you once, I told you a thousand times … keep away from him! There’s somethin’ not right with that boy! He’ll bring nuthin’ but misery. You start messin’ around with him and you’re gonna live to regret it. Then try and find yourself a decent husband! No man I know wants used goods!
Now stop makin’ excuses, girl! I’m your Pa and I know when you’re lyin’ … just like you was lyin’ about not bein’ out by the river. You know how I know that? ‘Cause somebody done seen ya. I see by the look in your eyes that it’s true. Yeah, you was seen by that new preacher man. And that ain’t all, girl. He said you was with that troublemaker and you had your heads together like you was plottin’ somethin’ real private-like.
I swear, girl, you ain’t got a lick a sense between ya. Stop this dang foolishness ‘cause it’s gonna lead to no good! C’mon now, girl … dinner’s waitin‘.
Anna, your cookin’ is fit for a king!
What you goin’ on about, woman? Jesus! I seen that boy just yesterday. Now, why’d he go do a fool thing like that!”
NAR©2024
250 Words
This is “Ode To Billie Joe” by Bobbie Gentry
NB: Bobbie Gentry remarked that the message in Ode To Billie Joe revolved around the “nonchalant way” the family discussed Billie Joe’s suicide. She also said she included the verse about something being thrown off the bridge because it established a relationship between Billie Joe and the daughter, providing “a possible motivation for his suicide after meeting with her“. Gentry told The New York Times in 1969: “I had my own idea what was thrown off the bridge while I was writing it, but it’s not that important. Actually it was something symbolic. But I’ve never told anyone what it was.” The last time Bobbie Gentry appeared in public was at the Academy of Country Music Awards on April 30, 1982, almost 42 years ago to the day. Since that time, she has not recorded, performed or been interviewed. A 2016 news report stated that Gentry lives a secluded lifestyle in Los Angeles; she has refused to speak to reporters about Ode To Billie Joe or to give interviews.
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.
BARREN FIELDS
I’m writing this letter to you, Mother, knowing it will never be sent; you’re gone now so there is no one to send it to but still, some words needed to be said.
We scattered your ashes by that old tree that stands alone in a barren field, the tree you always compared yourself to whenever we drove by; how many times did I have to hear you make a comment about that damn tree?
It was rough growing up thinking I was unloved by you and there were times I hated you for that; for years I thought it was something I had done but now realize it was something you couldn’t do – let your guard down and your emotions out and show me a mother’s love.
My teen years were the turning point for me because I got out of the house and freed myself of the strange power you had over me; how I resented you and your aloofness …. so many years wasted …. and now as I look back, I feel sorry for you because you chose to keep yourself deeply rooted behind the walls you built.
I remember once overhearing a fight you had with Dad, an argument about how it was – as you put it – ‘unmanly’ of him to dote over me; that was the only time I saw Dad get angry, shouting at you that he had to shower me with the love of two parents because you were unable or unwilling to express your love.
Well, Mother, I’m happy to say I have a warm and loving family, I’m nothing like you and I will not spend my life wondering how things could have been different if you had torn down those walls you hid behind; now you’re gone, your ashes cast into the wind, and I will be the one who will rest peacefully.
NAR © 2023
This is an AI Midjourney version of the song “Barren Field”:
HOUSECALLS
Saunders Drive. On the right corner stood the library, looking exactly as it did the last time I saw it. Diagonally across the street was the church we attended every Sunday, the preacher bellowing about morals and principles. Directly across from the church was a quaint-looking inn with a sign over the doorway – “Welcome Home!” And on the fourth corner was the big Colonial house where the Casey Family lived.
Jeff Casey was my first boyfriend; feels like a hundred years ago. Now there was a prominent shingle on the front lawn which read JEFFREY CASEY, M.D. A doctor! I never should have broken up with him!
My childhood house was a stone’s throw from the Casey’s. Not quite ready to see the old place just yet, I kept walking. About halfway down Main Street, I came across a boho-chic coffee shop/poet’s corner called “Beggars, Cynics and Euripides”. A pretty young woman wearing a rainbow tie dyed hippie skirt was preparing lunch tables outside. The freshly-painted red chair were staggering in their brilliance. She smiled pleasantly at me and asked if I’d like a table.
“Why not?” I answered as she handed me a menu. I was engrossed in reading the descriptions of the lunch fare when I became aware of someone standing nearby watching me. Glancing over my shoulder, I was pleasantly surprised to see the still-handsome face of Jeff Casey grinning at me.
“Rebecca Gardner! My God! What’s it been – 20 years? What brings you back to town?”
“Jeff! You look great!” and I instinctively hugged him. “Please join me.”
The waitress took our orders for iced coffee and as we waited, that warm, relaxed feeling between us resurfaced.
“Twenty years exactly. My folks sold the house after I graduated college. Honestly, I’m not sure why I’m here. Memories, you know?”
We caught up on life – marriages, divorces, etc. – and I mentioned going to see my old house but for whatever reason I was nervous.
Jeff tossed a twenty on the table and said “Come on. Let’s go together.” And before I could think of an excuse, he took my hand and we were on our way.
“The Matthews Family lives here now. Nice people.” Jeff bounded up the front steps and rang the doorbell. No answer.
The old oak tree was standing proud and tall in the front yard. My fingers lightly traced the weathered heart shape with our initials carved inside and we shared a smile and unspoken memories.
We strolled up Saunders Drive to Jeff’s place, neither of us in a rush for this bubble of serendipity to burst. Jess sighed. “Well, I’ve got patients to see.”
“And I’ve got a train to catch” I replied. “Jeff, it’s been too long. Let’s keep in touch.”
“I’d like that, Becca. By the way, I make housecalls.” He smiled over his shoulder as he disappeared inside.
NAR © 2023
It’s all new
Birthday Thursdays
at The Rhythm Section.
No talk, no fuss, no muss.
Just wall-to-wall music!
Stop by and check it out!
🎂
https://rhythmsection.blog/
VISUAL VERSE
An ekphrastic vignette written for the last issue of Visual Verse.
Happy to say I made the final cut. Thanks, sis.
ON BROKEN WINGS
There’s a feeling you get when a relationship is about to end. It sort of sneaks up on you like ivy climbing up a tree trunk. You see it starting but it’s nothing terribly worrisome; then it slowly starts working its way up the trunk until it overtakes the tree. It’s got a strangle-hold on that poor tree, suffocating it. It doesn’t matter if it’s a mighty oak or a frail mimosa; the ivy will win out every time.
That’s the feeling I now had for Jeremy and I don’t know why. I just knew it was time to break things off. That was clear; what wasn’t clear was how I was going to tell him.
It’s not as though we started off like a couple of teenagers on a hormone rush. Ours was a gradual connection much like our disconnection. We had chemistry. We could make each other laugh. We liked the same music, the same food, the same movies. We could talk at length or enjoy a quiet, lazy Sunday afternoon. And we had great sex.
Jeremy gave me a rose-colored braided love knot ring; I accepted it because it was pretty and didn’t feel as permanent as a real ring.
We talked about moving in together but it never happened. Now I’m glad we didn’t; that would have made things so much harder. It was good to come and go as we pleased; now I found we were doing that less and less. I don’t believe it was deliberate; we just started drifting apart. Everything gradually slowed down and cooled off. I realized at some point I had finally exhaled and I was no longer suffocating.
We spent a cool Spring afternoon sitting on a bench at the beach. Watching the waves rolling in and falling back, I knew the time had come. Quietly I told Jeremy what I was feeling and he slowly nodded in agreement. I think he was glad the pressure was off him. I started to remove my ring but Jeremy refused to take it back.
I slowly walked away and took the long route home through the park. It had begun to drizzle. I stared down at the pavement as I walked. Just then I came upon a dead bird at my feet. I stood there staring at the poor little finch; he must have fallen out of his nest. I took a few tissues from my pocket, wrapped them around the bird and carefully picked him up; he was still warm, his tiny body limp.
I carried the lifeless bird home and retrieved a small spade from my gardening tools on the back porch. It began raining a little heavier as I dug a deep hole beneath the tidy row of boxwoods; there I buried the bird. Before filling his grave with dirt, I took off Jeremy’s rose-colored ring and placed it across the broken wings.
My face was wet; I didn’t know if it was the rain or my tears.
NAR © 2023
DAMAGED: IT’S A RAP
Just who in the hell do you think you are
Sitting out there in your flashed up car?
Everybody knows that you’re just a fool
Strutting ‘round town like you’re oh so cool!
You chased me and wooed me and swept me off my feet
With dime store trinkets and whispered lies so sweet.
I felt so very special when we were out together.
Ignoring all my friends when they said I could do better.
It didn’t take long for your true colors to show.
And you turned into someone I didn’t even know.
That was just the start of a whirlwind of deceit.
Thinking you could use me and then kick me to the street.
My father always told me you were nothing but scum
But I just wouldn’t listen, I acted deaf and dumb.
You think you’re perfect like Jesus walking on water
But tell me, what kind of man leaves his wife and daughter?
What happened to your soul, your spirit, your heart?
Did you ever once wonder why it all just fell apart?
Of course you didn’t; your conscience is clean
Of every misdeed you claim to have never seen.
So do us all a favor and get the hell out of here.
Don’t come close to me or the ones I hold so dear.
Take your heart of rotten wood and don’t bother to return.
You’re going straight to hell and I’ll be laughing while you burn!
NAR © 2023
242 Words
JEOPARDY!
The four month mark was rapidly approaching, four months since my relationship with Elliott fell apart.
We first met at our new jobs in Chicago. We developed a friendship after learning we were both New York transplants. It was comfortable running into someone from home and we began having lunch together. It all seemed quite natural and we welcomed the company.
Our families were out of the picture; my parents were deceased and Elliott’s were estranged. He told me after his parent’s nasty divorce, all form of communication between the three of them deteriorated. Elliott and I were flying solo; in hindsight, our relationship was a safety net and in the back of my mind I think I always knew it wasn’t going to last.
After we broke up, Elliott took another job about 25 miles away. He gave me his new address and we talked on the phone a few times but after a couple of weeks I never saw or heard from him again. Once more I was totally alone. Truth is I was relieved. Every so often Elliott’s dark side came out; he was into drugs and I hated that ugly part of his life. I distanced myself from him and the relationship just disintegrated.
While I wanted someone in my life, I knew I wasn’t ready to throw myself into the dating scene. Clubbing and all its danger zones were not for me so, after some thought, I decided to try my luck at a dating app. While scoping out the various apps, I came across something else that piqued my interest – an online trivia group. I’d always been good at playing Trivial Pursuit and would shout out the answers while watching Jeopardy! on TV. I never lost at those games so joining a trivia team was a no-brainer. It could also prove to be a good way to meet someone new, someone who enjoyed the same things as me.
When signing up for the group, I learned everyone had to provide an email address. Scanning the list of addresses, I was shocked to see one I recognized – it belonged to my ex, Elliott! I had no idea he was into trivia and I certainly wasn’t expecting this little snag but I was determined to see it through. Maybe with any luck he’d end up on the opposing team.
The games were to be held via ZOOM two nights each week with the option to meet more often. Two teams of six were formed; as luck would have it, not only was Elliott on my team – he was named as team captain! This ticked me off a bit but I kept my feelings to myself; I had the smarts for the game and was secretly hoping I’d be the team captain. Well, we’d soon find out how much Elliott knew about trivia.
The games started up a week later and proved to be a lot of fun. They were fast paced and highly competitive but in a friendly way and I looked forward to our twice weekly meets. Elliott was, for lack of a better description, proving to be an asshole. It’s possible I picked up on his erratic behavior before anyone else because I knew him and what signs to look for. I decided to let it slide; let Elliott dig his own hole.
Besides acting like a jerk, Elliott was also playing stupid mind games with me. I’d catch him looking at me out of the corner of my eye. Sometimes he’d make lewd gestures or mouth something inappropriate – asinine stuff like that; if anyone else noticed, they didn’t let on and neither did I. “Just take the high road and let it go” I reminded myself.
Then I started getting calls from an unknown number. Coincidence? At first I’d answer but no one would reply. I blocked that number but prank calls started coming in from another anonymous number. I was sure it was Elliott using burner phones. What was his problem? I was enjoying the trivia group and I didn’t want his actions impacting my game so once again I turned a blind eye and ignored him.
Things took a strange turn when Elliott didn’t show up for a game one night. We carried on without him and he was there for the following game so no one questioned his whereabouts. Elliott was all over the place that night, giving wrong answers, shouting out non sequiturs and just being a total jerk. He signed off from the game as soon as it was over and the rest of us just laughed about his outlandish behavior afterwards.
The mind games escalated and Elliott started gaslighting me. I’d see him sitting in his car outside my apartment at night and other times I saw him standing across the street when I left work. He didn’t try to make contact or follow me but it was still freaky. I refused to let him get to me and I’m sure that pissed him off.
One day I got a delivery of a box of dried up flowers with a couple of pathetic dead birds tucked inside. Of course, it was absurd to think there’d be a card but I didn’t need one to know it was from Elliott. Another time I found a brown paper bag outside my front door. I tentatively kicked at it with the tip of my shoe and a dead rat tumbled out. I thought about reporting the incidents to the police but kept them to myself; after all, I didn’t have any solid proof. It wasn’t always easy but I was the epitome of restraint.
Elliott missed the next two trivia nights but by now we were used to his unexplained absences. We all joked about what a clown he was and decided to name a new captain and reached out to someone on the standby list to join the group. Elliott was officially MIA and nobody really cared. Good – out of sight, out of mind.
A few days later one of our teammates went digging around for information. He learned that someone with the same name as Elliott, same age, same neighborhood, got arrested for operating a crystal meth factory in his basement! Everyone thought it was the most bizarre thing they’d ever heard. As for me, I thought it was typical of Elliott and no big shock; it was bound to happen sooner or later. Elliott deserved everything he got – not just for the drugs but for all the sick things he did to me.
But the very best part was the fact that nobody ever knew it was me who called the cops on Elliott. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.
So long, Elliott. I guess nobody told him not to mess with the smart girls.
NAR © 2023
AND SO I DROWN
The prompt for today is Writing in One Sentence, challenge created by RXC:PROMPT #247, hosted by Reena
Just when I think there are no more tears left in me,
a thousand more worm their way out of the corners of my eyes
and trickle down my cheeks, falling on my breasts
as my fingers quiver over the keyboard,
its magnetic pull as strong as the waves of a tsunami
dragging me to you,
to reach out to you and lose myself in your eyes,
to dream of your hands on the small of my back
drawing me to you,
bringing out every passion every woman
throughout all of time has ever known
yet realizing if I do so I will lose myself forever
and so I drown in tears of sorrow and love and painful resolution;
O God, I despise my anguished body
which has turned against me so cruelly,
I hate these feelings I have for you,
and yet I delight in them
as I am devoured by the passion you have for me
and I die a million times over for I know the pain I suffer
will never allow me to be with you again,
the only one I truly long for.
NAR © 2022
BLINDSIDED
This story was recently published on The Writers Club. I would like to thank them for showcasing my work which was originally published on WordPress on September 17, 2017. Thank you!
Hard to imagine life without her. When the hell did everything start to unravel?
Now he sat alone in the shell of their apartment, baseball game on the tv playing for no one, nursing his second Dewars. Once upon a time this place was alive with people enjoying one of their famous dinner parties. When he closed his eyes he could hear their friends discussing politics, movies, the crazy tenants on the 2nd floor … and the sound of her spirited laugh when someone told a dirty joke.
They were the perfect couple, the envy of all their friends. Theirs was an easy, comfortable marriage – viewing a gallery in SoHo, cycling through Central Park, steamy showers after Saturday morning love-making. They were in sync in their choices of restaurants, paint colors and the biggest decision of all … neither one wanted kids.
He sat there, head in hands while a thousand thoughts went through his mind. When did he begin having second thoughts? Was it the weekend in Maine spent visiting his sister after the birth of her first baby? Was it watching the kids in the playground across the street? All he could remember was the night he whispered in her ear that he wanted to have a baby.
She was blindsided. What? No! He was just named partner at Goldman Sachs. She was food editor for Connoisseur magazine. Life is perfect. They had an agreement, dammit! Would she just consider thinking about it? No! How could he spring this on her now?
Weeks, months went by. She remained adamant, distant. Then one day he came home after work and she was gone.
Here he sat, alone with his Dewars, ballgame long over, fingering his wedding band, staring at divorce papers.
It couldn’t have happened to a more perfect couple.
NAR © 2022
FISH AND CHIPS
As I was leaving my favorite fish and chips place, I bumped into an old friend. I waited for him to get his food and we sat outside eating and catching up. He was doing well but had recently stopped seeing a woman he enjoyed spending time with – one of those ‘friends with benefits’ things. I’m not one to judge; I’ve had many of those myself. Easy come, easy go.
“Tom, the worst mistake we make in these relationships is getting too attached. There’s no point beating ourselves up over the breaks” I told my friend, popping a chip into my mouth.
“Funny thing is, Brian, I didn’t break it off; she did.”
“How’d ya feel about that?” I asked him.
“You know, mate, I didn’t believe she’d do it” Tom replied somewhat wistfully. “She’d broken things off before but we always got back together. We were drawn to each other like magnets. She was special – different, older, sexy as hell. She was a one off, Bri, not someone you easily forget.”
“What then?” I questioned.
“She had some ‘issues’ that were pressing on her greatly. She needed to deal with them, straighten out her life, so she made the break. And this time she meant it. You know, mate, it’s silly but I miss her and I keep expecting to hear from her.”
“She misses you too, Tom.”
“Yeah, and how would you know that, Brian?” Tom asked suspiciously, surprise and curiosity peeking through his hooded eyes.
“Because I know who she is. It’s Sophie. She works with my sister Nan and she’s been over the house a few times. I heard them talking” I answered my friend.
“Did ya now? Brian, tell me what you heard.”
“You sure, Tom?” I asked and he nodded in assent.
“Sophie told Nan she thought she’d be able to have an ongoing casual relationship with you but it got intense, it got real. She said she couldn’t handle the pressure of your relationship any longer.”
Tom sat there toying with his food, lost in thought.
“Listen, mate.” I interrupted Tom’s reverie. “Sophie told Nan something else.”
Tom glanced up at me as if he just realized I was there. “And what might that be, Brian?”
“Sophie said hooking up with you was easy. Letting you go was torture. But they were two of the best decisions she ever made. She said she’d never forget you.”
Tom managed a half smile and we ate our food in silence.
“Good fish and chips, eh mate?” I said after a few minutes.
“Yeah. That they are, Bri” Tom replied.
We finished our meal talking about our plans for the weekend, gave each other a bro hug and went our separate ways. When I looked back, Tom was having a good laugh with our friend Ian.
Easy come, easy go.
NAR © 2022
ON BROKEN WINGS
There’s a feeling you get when a relationship is about to end. It sort of sneaks up on you like ivy climbing up a tree trunk. You see it starting but it’s nothing terribly worrisome; then it slowly starts working its way up the trunk until it overtakes the tree. It’s got a strangle-hold on that poor tree, suffocating it. It doesn’t matter if it’s a mighty oak or a frail mimosa; the ivy will win out every time.
That’s the feeling I now had for Jeremy and I don’t know why. I just knew it was time to break things off. That was clear; what wasn’t clear was how I was going to tell him.
It’s not as though we started off like a couple of teenagers on a hormone rush. Ours was a gradual connection much like our disconnection. We had chemistry. We could make each other laugh. We liked the same music, the same food, the same movies. We could talk at length or enjoy a quiet, lazy Sunday afternoon. We had incredible sex and a lot of it.
Jeremy gave me a braided love knot bracelet; I accepted it because it was pretty and didn’t feel as permanent as a ring.
We talked about moving in together but it never happened. Now I’m glad we didn’t; that would have made things so much harder. It was good to come and go as we pleased; now I found we were doing that less and less. I don’t believe it was deliberate; we just started drifting apart. Everything gradually slowed down and cooled off. I realized at some point I had finally exhaled and I was no longer suffocating.
We spent a cool Spring afternoon sitting on a bench at the beach. Watching the waves rolling in and falling back, I knew the time had come. Quietly I told Jeremy what I was feeling and he slowly nodded in agreement. I think he was glad the pressure was off him. I started to remove my bracelet but Jeremy refused to take it back.
I slowly walked away and took the long route home through the park. It had begun to drizzle. I stared down at the pavement as I walked. Just then I came upon a dead bird at my feet. I stood there staring at the poor little finch; he must have fallen out of his nest. I took a few tissues from my pocket, wrapped them around the bird and carefully picked him up; he was still warm, his tiny body limp.
I carried the lifeless bird home and retrieved a small spade from my gardening tools on the back porch. It began raining a little heavier as I dug a deep hole beneath the tidy row of boxwoods; there I buried the bird. Before filling his grave with dirt, I took off Jeremy’s bracelet and placed it across the broken wings.
My face was wet; I couldn’t tell if it was the rain or my tears.
NAR © 2022
A BRUSH WITH FATE
It was nothing, really; just an unsettling feeling.
The apartment was deathly silent – no water running, no sounds coming from the kitchen, no television – nothing, not even the comforting, barely perceptible reverberation of Matt’s snoring.
The quiet was oddly disquieting. Lying on the bed on my right side, I eyed the digital clock on the nightstand: 7:15 AM – a little early for our usual Sunday morning sleep-ins.
Gradually I shifted onto my back, staring up at the ceiling for a minute or two waiting to hear something, anything. I slowly turned my head and glanced over at the left side of the bed – Matt’s side. He wasn’t there. “Hmm, wonder where he is?” I thought. I listened again; still silence. I called out “Matt? Babe?” No response.
“Okay, maybe he went to get bagels and The Times.” It’s very unusual for us not to make love on a lazy Sunday morning. Sex in the morning is always delicious but last night was incredible; we really got carried away. I don’t know what came over me; my desire was insatiable and Matt certainly was ready, willing and able to oblige. I couldn’t help smiling as I thought about the night before; the images were so intense, I started getting aroused. I called out again: “Matt, honey! Are you here?” Still nothing.
Matt and I met about seven months ago, shortly after my breakup with Danny. I thought Danny was ‘the one’; we even talked about marriage. We really were a perfect match in all aspects of our lives. The fact that sex with Danny was the best I’d ever had was a bonus. But somewhere down the road things began to unravel and we just sort of drifted apart. That was a very low point in my life; I loved Danny and I still think about him often. It’s only natural that I would.
Then Matt entered the picture and there was an instant attraction between us. We were both on the rebound and took things slow. We decided not to move in together, not just yet, opting for weekends here or at Matt’s. We were committed to each other but not ready for anything as permanent as living together. We agreed the only thing we would leave at each other’s place was a toothbrush.
The more I thought about last night, the more I wanted Matt in my bed right now. Looking at the clock I was amazed to see that 45 minutes had gone by. Where the hell was Matt?
I got out of bed and padded barefoot into the kitchen, checking the living room on the way. I was clearly alone, not even the usual welcoming presence of a fragrant pot of coffee. I looked around in confusion.
Feeling the strong urge to pee, I raced back to the bathroom and there I found all the answers I needed. A sticky note with angry red letters on the mirror read “YOU TALKED ABOUT SEX WITH DANNY IN YOUR SLEEP … AGAIN!! I’M OUTTA HERE!
And there was just one lonely toothbrush in the holder – mine.
NAR © 2021
The Elephant's Trunk 