Alison played with her sugar sachet. “If things were different…”
“You mean if you weren’t married, if we’d met before?” He answered the silence, “You’re just confirming we’d be together without the accident of time. Past alliances were right then but now…”
“And you meet another in the future? Will this be a coincidence of timing?”
“This is real.”
“Amy wasn’t? Stuart isn’t?”
“They felt like it, but however safe and comfortable, they aren’t enough. That cocoon is a compromise that cannot endure.”
Her eyes rimmed with tears and she didn’t resist as John cautiously took hold of her hand.
Flash Fiction
Chapter 12 – Love Burns
Alison, planted her elbow on the table, sobbing, her hand across her lowered brow, she scoured the floor for answers discarded there.
John yearned to take her close, hold her tight and decant all her stress into himself.
He leant forward, peering under her tumbling hair, searching for words to ease her mind.
He’d kept away to make things easier but, Fate had scorned his efforts, their efforts.
Unwittingly, his hand had strayed to within a hairsbreadth of hers, across the table. Neither withdrew nor could they dare cross the final barrier. A spark now would weld them together forever.
The Wrong Tool For the Job
Image courtesy of Al Forbes
“Fancy a ride?” Matt gambled.
Kayleigh beamed at the sports car, a faint blush shading her heavy make-up.
She tingled as the engine throbbed; the wind exciting her hair.
As he changed gear, she took his hand, “Stuart’s got a boring hatchback.”
Matt jerked into Lovers’ lane, stopping abruptly.
She dragged him to her, ardently kissing then burying his face in her cleavage, to suffocation point.
“Put the roof up, I’ll get in the back.”
Struggling with the mechanism, his ardour withered,
“Forget it,” she bawled, “it’s too small, just take me home!”
“Hatchbacks have their moments,” Matt bemoaned limply.
Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.
Chapter 11 – Deep in the Strangest Feelings
Alison sat down with a scowl. “I can’t cope with this.”
“You know my philosophy; destiny, love, we can’t alter any of it, but I’m giving you space to deny it, if you insist.” He paused.
Her eyes narrowed, “I just need you out of my head.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t control that,” John smiled, “And for that matter, neither do you.”
“So, it’s preordained?”
“It would appear so but, if you disagree, walk away.” She stood to leave. “After you’ve had your cuppa.”
Alison sat down again and heard herself saying, “I swore never to see you again.”
Heroes and Arch Villians
PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson
Screeching alarms split his head, flashing lights blared but it was immaterial now, he’d taken out all of his captors. Their futile attempts to stop him were no match for his deadly combination of karate and cunning.
Blood flowed from his shoulder, one of them had got lucky but that was no impediment, he’d stitch it up with the thread concealed in his teeth.
The last corridor to negotiate; he strode down it confidently; the enemy had nothing left.
“Davies! What are you doing dawdling here? The lesson’s started.”
“Damn! A survivor!” He was caught. “Another afternoon of double maths.”
Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.
Chapter 10 – Always Something There to Remind Me
Thoughts of guilt and despair crashed through her mind. Radio and daytime TV offered no succour. She needed to get out. She’d take her Kindle and treat herself to a cream tea.
Idling through town, woollen hat and scarf wrapped against the cold, she found herself outside the Diner. Remembering the music, milkshakes and good times, she regretted she couldn’t enter; John might be there. Head bowed, she hurried by. The doorbell tinkled as she stepped into the café, unwinding her scarf.
John looked up from a table, “What are you doing here?”
“Avoiding the diner,” she groaned with resignation.
Chapter 9 – Love the One You’re With
Staying in bed was only saturating the pillow. Wrapping a dressing gown round her, Alison threw herself at the cleaning, not daring to stop for a cup of tea. Struggling to control her inner debate, she turned on the hoover to drown it out.
Like a mantra, she narrated the clichés her mother would spill. “The grass is rarely greener, better the devil you know; be grateful for what you have.”
But nothing would dispel the voice of love iterating, “Compromise isn’t happiness. Love doesn’t know compromise.”
“It’ll pass,” she whispered, “No texts, no calls, I won’t see him again.”
Chapter 8 – Though You Treat Me Like You Do
Stuart stared at the stale mascara streaks betraying her sleepless night.
“Whatever’s up? You look awful.”
“Nothing, just a tough night, I suppose.” She averted her eyes.
“You were late. Something happen? You didn’t fall out with your friends? I know how you lot can be sometimes.”
His depiction of her and her friends’ relationship offered a welcome chance to laugh.
“No, everything’s fine. I told you, just had a particularly scary nightmare, silly to dwell on it.”
He pulled her close, “Hugs for my Darling. Don’t you worry! You’re safe with me.”
“Yes,” she echoed, “I’m safe with you.”
Chapter 7 – A Feeling I Don’t Want to Know
Alison laid down and listened to his rhythmic breathing. In the dark he was just a lumpy silhouette but she didn’t need light or him to be awake, to know the look of the ever-resident kindness in his still, grey eyes.
But, what beyond kindness? She involuntarily compared John’s dark spark to Stuart’s dullness and the pillow began to grow damp from her tears.
She felt guilty and assailed by irresistible forces. Reaching for a tissue, she sat up to wipe her nose.
Stuart stirred, “What’s up, babe?”
She stuttered a smile, “Just a scary nightmare. Nothing to worry about.”
Just Got to Keep Moving
PHOTO PROMPT © C.E. Ayr
He’d lit the fuse of yet another city. Standing on the bridge, Jake contemplated the rails disappearing in every direction, over mysterious horizons to unnumbered tempting futures.
He sighed, “How many times before I run out of track?”
Kicking the heavy canvas bag at his feet he smiled, “They’ll come after me, alright.” The first train hissed to a halt.
“How long can I continue? Perhaps this time I’ll find honest employment, make a proper new start.”
Slumping into his seat, he thought again, “But let’s not be hasty, maybe this track, is the beautiful one headed to rainbow’s end.”
Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.
Michael Wynn 