Friday Fictioneers – Love’s Fragrance

Every week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (thank you, Rochelle!) hosts a flash fiction challenge, to write a complete story, based on a photoprompt, with a beginning, middle and end, in 100 words or less. Post it on your blog, and include the Photoprompt and Inlinkz (the blue frog) on your page. Link your story URL. Then the fun starts as you read other peoples’ stories and comment on them!

FF - Love's fragrance 190220

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Love’s fragrance

“Those are pretty flowers, Mommy!” Helen leaned across the table and stroked one of the petals very gently.

“Daddy gave them to me,” smiled Imogen. “Today is a special day – we’ve been married for ten years! They’re made of glass and metal, and the shiny yellow is real gold.”

“Do they smell nice?” asked Helen, doubtfully, leaning close to them and wrinkling her nose.

“I’m afraid not, honey, but they’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

While Imogen busied herself preparing supper, Helen ‘borrowed’ her mommy’s favourite perfume.

“Why, these roses smell just like you, darling!” exclaimed Mark when he returned that evening.

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Friday Fictioneers – A life for a life

Every week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (thank you, Rochelle!) hosts a flash fiction challenge, to write a complete story, based on a photoprompt, with a beginning, middle and end, in 100 words or less. Post it on your blog, and include the Photoprompt and Inlinkz (the blue frog) on your page. Link your story URL. Then the fun starts as you read other peoples’ stories and comment on them!

FF - A life for a life 190213

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

A Life for a Life

Once they were past the entrance, only the flimsy door of the apartment kept the gang out.

Robin cowered, white faced in the corner. Magdala yelled down her phone to the police.

“They’re here! Be quick!”

The door burst inwards, hurling screws from its hinges like shrapnel.

Sunlight from the window flared from a knife. A man leapt at Robin.

With a shriek of defiance, Magdala threw herself in front of her lover and felt the blade bite deep into her chest.

“Stop!” called the gang leader. “Let him go. She’s paid. A life for a life is enough.”

What Pegman Saw – Carpe Diem

“What Pegman saw” is a weekly challenge based on Google Streetview. You can read the rules here. You can find today’s location on this page,  from where you can also get the Inlinkz code.

WPS - Carpe Diem 190202

Carpe Diem

Inwood Hill Park may seem an odd place for a first date, but Mark and I both grew up in the country. We picnicked and agreed that, while this wasn’t countryside, you could at least smell the earth rather than gasoline.

I was thrilled by Mark’s job as a Wall Street trader, and he seemed fascinated by the celebs I interviewed for ‘Vogue’.

We were an ideal match. We soon married, and I went part-time to be a home-maker.

And it worked, it really did. For fifteen years we loved and cherished, and raised a couple of kids.

And then, abruptly, it didn’t work anymore. Was it really Mark’s affair that drove us apart? Was I really the ‘over-critical bitch from hell’? Whatever. We divorced.

I buried him last week. He was only fifty. How I wish we’d not chased the perfect but enjoyed the good while we had it.

What Pegman Saw – Last Night Nerves

“What Pegman saw” is a weekly challenge based on Google Streetview. You can read the rules here. You can find today’s location on this page,  from where you can also get the Inlinkz code. As regards the link with the location, Tallinn has some very nice restaurants – sorry it’s so tenuous!

wps - last night nerves 190126

Talinn, Estonia | Daniel Pettersson, Google Maps

Last night nerves

She looked radiant. He was nervous, constantly rummaging in the pocket of his jacket. I gave them my best smile and a menu each.

He stammered while ordering, and checked repeatedly with the young woman exactly what she wanted.

“Would you like red wine with the duck, Margit? They would go well together. Or – how presumptuous of me to assume you want wine! – perhaps you would prefer something different altogether?”

“Red wine will be lovely, Andrus.”

She seemed to greatly enjoy her meal, but he picked at his, pushing it round his plate with his fork and leaving half of it.

“I’m sorry Andrus left so much,” said Margit as she paid. “He is ill – a brain tumour.”

Andrus pressed a 50 Euro note into my hand. “More use to you than me,” he said, white-faced.

They left.

The door had hardly closed behind them when two shots rang out.

Friday Fictioneers – In Memoriam

Every week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (thank you, Rochelle!) hosts a flash fiction challenge, to write a complete story, based on a photoprompt, with a beginning, middle and end, in 100 words or less. Post it on your blog, and include the Photoprompt and Inlinkz (the blue frog) on your page. Link your story URL.

FF - In memoriam Lynne 181224

Copyright – Adam Ickes

In Memoriam

The time for fighting was past.

The time for prayers was past.

Words of love and consolation had been spoken; a painful balm for an atrocious parting.

A breeze through the open window softened the summer heat in the sickroom, where she lay breathing gently, unconscious and free of pain. Her husband held her hand. Her two, grown-up daughters sat by the bed. Her sisters were close. She was so peaceful that none of those she loved could tell when the end came.

Wife, mother, teacher.

Sister, feminist, friend.

Who will fill her shoes now?

At First Sight – Part 8

Jon and Vikki fell in love the day before Vikki returned permanently to Australia, leaving Jon in London. He books a flight to visit her. Meanwhile, Vikki’s abusive former partner, Guy, has tracked her down. Vikki disappears. Jon, and her childhood sweetheart, Dan, pursue Guy. There is a showdown, in which Vikki is rescued, Guy is killed, and Jon and Dan both critically injured

At first sight 8 - Manor on High 170715

Jon’s head was aching. He couldn’t remember a worse pain, except for…his mind shied away from an explosion of agony that he couldn’t quite recall. Instead, he opened his eyes. The ceiling was white. The light hurt his eyes.

“Jonathan?”

“Dad?”

“Thank God. You’re back with us. Praise the Lord!”

“Where am I?”

“Hospital. The Royal Melbourne Hospital, to be precise.”

Jonathan closed his eyes again.

“Where’s Vikki? Is she…is she alright?”

“Yes, she’s fine. She just popped out for a bite of breakfast. She’ll be back.”

“Breakfast. I’ve been out overnight, then?”

“A bit longer than that, I’m afraid.”

Jon’s eyes opened abruptly.

“Dad! What the hell are you doing here?”

“I flew out last week when the hospital told us you might not pull through.”

Jon said nothing.

“I’ll be able to help you travel home, too.”

“I have something to do before coming home. In fact, I may not come back to the UK at all.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. There’s your PhD to finish…” James Hall’s voice faded as he looked at his son’s pale face and the turban of dressings round his head. The doctors had warned him of possible brain damage; maybe Jon wouldn’t be capable of completing his studies.

The door opened quietly. Jon looked and smiled.

“Vikki!”

“Oh, Jon, I’m so glad!” Her tears welled up, and poured down her cheeks, even as she beamed with joy. She swabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “Drat this crying. Anybody would think I was sad!”

Jonathan stretched out his arms towards her. As she moved into his embrace, the door opened.

“Now then, Mr Hall. Lie still and don’t get excited. You’re still a very sick man.” But the nurse’s face was cheerful, and her manner light.

“I’ll… er… go and phone your mother, tell her that you’re back in the land of the living.”

“Yeah.”

Little fragments of memory were flashing before Jon. He held onto Vikki’s hands.

“You’re safe!” he said. “I was so afraid of what Guy might do to you.”

Vikki frowned. “Best leave that for the moment. Some other time?”

Jon went to nod, and realised that his head was restrained. Instead, he made a circle with his thumb and forefinger, and smiled. His eyes closed, and he drifted off to sleep. He looked happy, Vikki thought.

The nurse spoke quietly to Vikki. “I know I told him to keep still, but it’s an excellent sign that he was able to move his arms. There didn’t look to be any weakness. We have to wait for the consultant’s say-so, but it looks good. You’re a lucky girl, I think.”

Vikki coloured. She gazed at Jon. What was it about him that made her desire him so much? She stroked his arm with her fingertips. The muscles were relaxed in sleep, but she could feel their tight definition. The hair on his skin was downy and fair, hardly more than a fuzz.

She looked at his face and remembered the last ten days, and the tears came again. At first the doctors had thought he would die; you could tell from their faces, and from the nurses’ refrain, “He’s receiving the best possible care,” which so often becomes, “We did all we could.”

But now he was out of danger.

The door clicked as James Hall came back into the room.

“Ah, good. He’s asleep. That’s what he needs.” He looked at Vikki, who half-nodded. “I wonder if we could talk together for a few minutes?” he asked. He held open the door. Vikki stared at him, set her lips and walked into the corridor.

“Well?”

“I wanted to talk about Jon, and his future.”

“I didn’t think you wanted to talk about the weather.”

“Vikki. Please don’t be hostile. There’s no need. We’ve both got Jon’s best interests at heart.”

“Say what you want to say.”

“Jon’s a very bright young man, you know. He has a great future. He could become a professor.”

“Your point being?”

“He needs to come back to the UK to finish his PhD. His academic network is centred in the UK. It will set back his career unless he returns and stays in England.”

“Do you suppose he doesn’t know that?”

“I’m sure he does. But I want to be confident that you understand. I’m sure you want to act in his best interests.”

“Of course I do. But I think that Jon can perfectly well decide his best interests for himself. Don’t you?”

“I’m concerned that he may not see them clearly while he’s infatuated.”

“I’d prefer to say that he’s in love. Look, Mr Hall, Jon’s big enough to make his own decisions. If he asks me to marry him, I shall say yes like a shot. And – I’ll be blunt – that is none of your business. It’s about time you recognised that he’s a man, now, not a little boy.”

“I see. Thank you for making your feelings so clear. Perhaps you’d like to rejoin him? I shall go and find something to eat. Good day to you.”

Cheeks flaming, Vikki went back into Jon. She moved quietly across to the bed, and slipped her hand into his. He didn’t wake, but his fingers closed gently around hers. She sighed, and the hostility she’d felt for Jon’s father melted away. Sitting here, with Jon safe, was all she wanted. It was a moment of perfect calm and happiness.

*       *       *       *

It had been the first day Jon had tried walking since his injury. He’d been okay; the doctors were pleased, but he was exhausted. The door clicked. He looked up, hoping the nurse had come to adjust the bed so that he could sleep, but it was Dan. Jon sat up a little straighter and greeted him cheerfully.

Dan dropped into the chair by the bed.

“Glad we did it, eh?”

Jon nodded.

“Your doing mostly, Dan. I didn’t stop him; you did.”

“Team effort, mate”

“You’re too generous.”

Dan gave him a sideways look. “Only a Pom would say that!”

Jon grinned.

“Look, I’ve got something serious to say,” went on Dan. “It’s about Vikki. I’ve seen how she’s been with you the last couple weeks.”

He paused and thought a little.

“If you ask her to marry you, she’ll say ‘Yes’, you know. I just wanted to say there’ll be no hard feelings on my part. I love her, yeah, I have done as long as I can remember, but, well, she loves you and I want her to be happy. That’s what matters. I’m a big boy. I guess I’ll get over it.”

Jon was briefly silent, then he held out his hand. Dan grasped it.

“Thank you,” said Jon.

They sat like that for several minutes, then Jon said, “I shall ask Vikki this evening. If she says yes, would you be my best man at the wedding?”

“I’d be honoured. Provided I’m not in gaol on the day.”

“Gaol?”

“Yeah. They’ve charged me with manslaughter for killing Guy. My brief reckons with the extenuating circumstances I’ll probably get a couple years.”

“But – you saved my life!”

“Yeah. That’s the extenuating bit.”

“Dan, I’m so sorry.”

“The law’s the law, I guess. I tell you what, though. I’d do it again tomorrow. We got Vikki out. You’re still alive. And Guy’s dead. Good riddance. Vikki’s told me some of what he did. He was a piece of shit. I’m bloody glad I shot the bastard.”

He looked at Jon.

“Here, you’re looking a bit peaky, mate. Do you want me to call the nurse?”

“I’m OK. First day out of bed today, that’s all.”

The door clicked open.

“Out you go now!” The nurse was brisk. Dan winked at Jon, and loped out. Jon fell asleep even before the nurse had finished reclining the head of the bed.

*       *       *       *

Jonathan Hall, newly minted PhD, sat next to Dan in the Regency Room of the Manor on High in Melbourne. In his room in Vikki’s mum’s house was the letter offering him a post at Melbourne University, together with confirmation from the Department of Immigration and Border Protection that he qualified for permanent residency.

Dan was quiet, self-controlled; calmly cheerful; on parole.

Carolyn Hall sat behind her son, but her husband, James, was absent, unable to reconcile himself to Jon wedding an atheist.

The string quartet drew their music to a close at the registrar’s signal, and then struck up Pachelbel’s Canon.

Vikki entered, on her mother Margaret’s arm. She was heartbreakingly beautiful. Her honey-coloured hair was put up in a French Pleat, emphasizing her classic features. Her amber eyes seemed to glow.

Jon and Vikki exchanged vows, and rings; the registrar pronounced them man and wife.

The reception afterwards was joyful and lively, but Margaret made a moment of seclusion to speak quietly to Jon. “Do you remember what I said at the yard gate? ‘Find my girl, Jon. Bring her back to me.’ You did that, Jon, and I am eternally grateful to you and Dan”. She hugged him close for several minutes, and then added, “She’s told me things, Jon, things she’ll probably never tell you. Be gentle with her, won’t you?”

And that is where this serial stops. It would be nice to say that ‘they all lived happily ever after’, but that never happens to real people, and it doesn’t in my tale either. But whether you ever hear of what happened later will depend entirely upon the caprice of the author!

 

 

At First Sight – Part 7

As I’m taking part in NaNoWriMo, which requires me to write 50,000 words of a novel in the 30 days of November, I’m afraid I have no time to write original material for my blog. Instead I’m repeating a serial I first posted in 2017, one episode per day. I hope you enjoy it!

At first sight - camper van 170708

Jon and Vikki fell in love the day before Vikki returned to her home in Australia – leaving Jon behind. Her abusive former partner, Guy, is tracking her. Her childhood sweetheart, Dan, has proposed marriage to her. Jon flies to Melbourne and learns that Vikki has disappeared. The police are dismissive, but Dan hacks computer records and discovers Guy’s whereabouts.

“Are you nearly finished with that – what did you call it? – that witness statement? Because we’re about five minutes away from the campsite.”

Jon pressed ‘Send’ on his tablet.

“All done. Can we pull off for a minute, to work out what we’re going to do?”

There was a halt half a mile ahead, and Dan pulled in.

“I’m worried that confronting Guy may cause him to harm Vikki. The last thing we want is for him to use Vikki as a hostage,” said Jon.

“Yeah. What do you suggest?”

“Do you know the registration number of his camper van?”

“C-A-M-P-3-7. He shouldn’t be difficult to spot in any case. It’s the low season. There won’t be many campers.”

“I guess we go in and see if the van’s there, and see whether he comes out?”

“I can’t think of anything better. I’ll park just inside the entrance. We might need to block his way out.”

Jon touched his nose gently; it was still slightly swollen and sore. “He’s quite a handy brawler. Better than me. What are you like?”

“I reckon the two of us can take him, don’t you?”

“I think so. Only be careful; he fights dirty”

Dan nodded, and put the car into gear.

“Got you.”

The campsite was two miles down the road. As they pulled into the entrance, a man came over.

“You got a booking?”

“No. You got any vacancies?”

“No. Cabins are all shut for the winter. Unless you got a tent in the boot?”

“Yeah, that’s it”

“How many nights?”

“Just the one.”

“That’ll be twenty-five”.

Dan pulled the notes out of his wallet.

“You can pitch up through there, straight ahead, ‘bout three hundred yards.”

“You got somewhere we can freshen up before we settle in?”

The man jerked his thumb in the direction of the wash-house, a low, block-built structure.

“Happy camping, fellers”. He disappeared behind the building.

Dan pointed. A camper van stood barely one hundred yards away facing the exit.

“I guess this is it.” Dan leaned across and removed the automatic from the glovebox.

They had barely started moving towards the van when Guy emerged from the wash-house. He glanced casually in their direction, and his eyes opened wide. He sprinted towards the camper van, pulling keys out of his pocket as he ran.

“Block him with the car, Dan!”

Jon raced after Guy. He hoped Guy would fumble the keys in the door, but he didn’t. As Jon arrived, Guy was sliding the keys into the ignition. The van’s engine roared. Jon grabbed the door handle but he was too late. The van shot forward, dragging him off his feet. He let go, toppled sideways, and rolled on the ground, winded.

There was a crash and the van lurched sideways as Dan rammed it with his car. The van’s wheel caught Jon on the head, stunning him. He fought to stay conscious, forced his eyes to stay open, saw Guy leap from the camper van swinging a baseball bat. Jon saw the blow coming, tried desperately to dodge, heard a sharp crack, and then an overwhelming pain that plunged him into blackness.

At first sight - baseball bat 170708

Dan rushed around the van and saw Guy lying, a large red stain spreading through his shirt, a pool of blood on the floor. Beside him lay Jon, face white, still as death, a bloody dent in his skull. Dan pulled out his mobile phone, called for an ambulance and the police. Then he  removed the keys from the ignition, and ran to the back of the van. His chest was hurting where he’d hit the steering wheel in the crash.

He flung open the doors. Vikki, bound and gagged, lay on the floor of the van, struggling to breathe. Swiftly, Dan tore the tape off her mouth, and she took great gulps of fresh air. He pulled out his knife and cut her bonds. Sobbing, Vikki clutched him.

“Oh, Dan, thank goodness you’ve come. I knew you’d find me.”

“Jon’s outside,” he said, grimly. “Badly hurt, I’m afraid. Ambulance is on its way.” Blood welled up into his mouth. He turned and spat it out of the back door.

“Dan, you’re hurt!”

“Hit the steering wheel when I rammed the van. No airbags in my old wreck. Cracked rib or two, I reckon.” He brought up some more blood. “Sorry,” he said, and toppled forward.

Vikki screamed.

“Help! Get an ambulance! Somebody help!”

She scrambled to her feet, pushed past Dan’s unconscious form and jumped clear of the van. The campsite owner was some twenty yards away, too frightened to approach closer.

“Please,” called Vikki, “they’re all out cold. Please help me.”

“This one first,” panted Vikki, leading him to Dan, who was choking. Bloody froth streaked his chin. “Help me get him into the recovery position.”

Together they lifted him out of the van, and laid him on his side. A trickle of blood ran out of his mouth. He groaned, but breathed more easily.

They moved around to Jon. He lay perfectly still and silent, the blood from his head wound already coagulating. Vikki let out a howl of despair. “No!”

She knelt down and leaned over him, feeling for the pulse in his neck. It was faint, but regular. She clutched his hand.

“Stay with me, Jon. Stay with me!”

There were flashing blue lights, and sirens. Vikki hardly noticed, until a policewoman laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Come on, madam. You’re obstructing the paramedics. Let them look after the casualty. Come with me now.” Gently, talking, cajoling, guiding, she led Vikki away from Jon.

The senior paramedic shook his head at the severity of the injuries, even as he busied himself with the task of stabilising the patient’s condition.

“Can you spare a minute to look at this feller? He looks bad.”

Dan was wheezing, and his legs were jerking.

“Get him on oxygen right away. He’s got a perforated lung. Let’s get him into the wagon; we might need to insert a drain.”

Police had cordoned off the scene. Guy lay still, his corpse already cooling, while the pathologist did her job. Not that there was any doubt about the cause of death; a bullet through the heart is unambiguous.

Dan and Jon were loaded into the ambulance, which set off, sirens blaring, for the hospital.

“Please, can I go with them?” Vikki begged.

“We’ll take you in a few minutes. The officer in charge needs to talk to you first. Both your friends will be getting the best possible care.” The policewoman handed Vikki some tissues. “Here. Dry your eyes. Everything will be okay, I’m sure.”