#FSF : Vindictive

“This ain’t a vendetta,” I pulled the bag off the bastard’s head, so he could see. “Like you, my Daddy was a white, arrogant bastard with no respect for women,” I made sure he got a good look at me. “One night Daddy beat Momma to death, and when I found out, I shot him for what he did. Tonight, you beat a woman, just like Daddy beat Momma.” I placed the barrel of my 9mm between his eyes, and pulled the trigger. “It ain’t like I’m vindictive or anything.”

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One for Lillie McFerrin‘s flash fiction challenge, Five Sentence Fiction. This week, the prompt is Vindictive. Please, go read all the other entries to this week’s Five Sentence Fiction. It’s amazing what creative people can do with just five sentences.

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#FlashFriday #33 : The Cave

Getting her away from the mansion was easy. There were no guards. It was an island, no guards were needed. She’d just gone for a walk. Everyone knew she’d be back. There was no way off the island.

No one knew I lived in the caves on the island’s north side. The only way into the caves was through an underwater opening. I’d found the caves years ago, when I escaped the world.

Until the day they brought my daughter to it.

We met on the rocks by the edge of the trees. I handed her a shirt, and pants. “You’ll need these.”

I led her to the cliff on the southwest side of the island. “Follow me.” We dove into the ocean, and I led her through the underwater entrance. The inside was a cavern, with a small cave along the north wall, and a waterfall along the west wall. I led her to the small cave. My home.

“You’ll be safe here. In a few days, they’ll stop looking. Then it’s two days to the nearest island.”

That’s when she saw the picture of her, as a child, sitting in her father’s lap. She looked at me. “Daddy?”

200 Words

@LurchMunster

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I wrote this for Rebekah Postupak‘s #FlashFriday, Week 33. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #Flash Friday. They are good reading.

#ThursThreads Week #72 – You’re Just Jealous

Tommy stomped his feet, and crossed his arms, “I’m going home!”

Jill looked like her whole world was coming apart.

Freddy shook his head, “You’re just jealous! ‘Cause Jill picked me as her Daddy, and you as her little brother!”

“Am not!” Tommy glared at Freddy. “I just don’t wanna play this stupid game anymore!”

Jill, sitting in her wheelchair, looked down at her lap and started to cry. Freddy glared at Tommy. “Now look what you did!”

Tommy started to cry too. “But…” He shuffled from side to side on his feet. “I didn’t mean to.”

Freddy nudged Tommy’s shoulder. “Hey. It’s OK. We have to be big boys today.” He smiled at Tommy. “Right?”

Tommy sniffed, and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Yeah. Big boys.” His eyes said, “I know what a big boy would do.” He put a hand on Jill’s shoulder, “Don’t cry.” He knelt in front of her, took both her hands, and held them gently, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’ll be your little brother.”

Jill sniffed. “You really mean that?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you!” Jill gave Tommy a quick, shy hug. Tommy turned bright red.

Jill’s mother checked on them every now and then. Those boys were such a gift. Taking time to come over and play with Jill. They knew Jill’s cancer would kill her. But they still took time to play with her.

Jill’s mother smiled, and looked up at heaven, “Thank you.”

243 Words
@LurchMunster

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I wrote this for Siobhan Muir‘s #ThursThreads, Week 72. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #ThursThreads. They are good reading.

#SVWFlash Week 7

Momma wanted a family picnic every Sunday after church. Even though Daddy hated them. He always stood off to the side at them. But every Sunday after church, Daddy drove us someplace different in the countryside. Momma sat with us and we gossiped about who was dating whom, who was going to marry whom and who slept with whom.

Poor Daddy endured it all. We and Momma knew he loved us and would do everything he could to make us happy, but we all knew the one thing he’d asked for that God hadn’t given him.

A son.

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This is my winning entry into Week 7 of the Shenandoah Valley Writers Flash! Friday challenge. Please, go visit the site, and read all the great entries in Week 7 of the challenge. They were all good.

SVWriters Flash! Friday Week 7

The Sins Of The Mother…

It was the night of the blue moon. Wouldn’t be another for years. Cindy decided to celebrate. She put on her shortest denim shorts. The low-cut ones. The ones her momma hated. “Girl! You ain’t that kinda girl!” Momma said those words a lot. She didn’t wear a thing beneath them. She pulled out a matching top. Red and white. That ended just below her boobs. She didn’t wear a thing beneath that either. “Girl! You ain’t that kinda girl!” She laughed as she remembered her momma’s words.

She sat down on the edge of her bed. Pulled out her makeup kit. She’d bought makeup just for this night. Just for the blue moon. Pale blue eyeshadow. Perfect. Fire engine red lipstick. Perfect. The best part? The pale blue, glow in the dark nail polish. Next came the pale blue spiked heels. When she was all done, Cindy looked in the mirror. “Hell, yes!” she thought. “Girl, you do look hot!”

She picked up her blue bag. The one with the blue moon on the side. And the fairy silhouette on top of that. She opened it, and pulled out the first piece of the bright blue bubblegum. She popped that in her mouth, and started working it. Then she looked at the chest of drawers along the wall. At the picture of her momma. Momma’d been dead for two years. And still, her words kept haunting Cindy’s life. “Girl! You ain’t that kinda girl! I didn’t raise no whore!”

Then the arguments would start. The fights. The ones where daddy always wound up leaving inch wide welts on her back, her butt, and legs. Welts caused by his leather belt.

“I’m glad you’re gone, bitch,” Cindy said. Momma’d had a stroke when no one was at home. That night, daddy’d got home from work to find her cold, dead body on the kitchen floor. One day later, he’d thrown Cindy out. Without a single word.

Cindy looked at her Momma’s picture once again. “What do you think of me tonight, Momma? What do you think of me tonight?” She laughed, then blew a bright blue bubble with the gum. When it popped, she smiled at the picture. “Daddy may have been submissive to your evil control. Maybe it was your tits and ass that owned his soul.” The hatred flashed in her eyes. Years of anger she could not control. Anger running wild. Knowing what she’d do beneath the blue moon that night. “But I never did! I never will!”

She walked to the door of her one room flat, and before she left, she turned once more to the picture of her cold, dead, momma. “Bitch.”

You should have heard the door to her flat as it slammed.