Love

Ok, this one was written for a 24-hour contest with an assigned writing prompt. So you have some idea of the prompt, here it is:

Strong waves pounded the dark sand just a few yards away. Hidden by beach grass, they embraced, relieved to finally escape their wedding guests. His poetic whispers suddenly ceased as he leaned back, and said, "There's something I need to tell you..."

I tried my best to make it less romance-novel-ish.... Let me know what you think.

“That was beautiful,” she sighed, snuggling closer to him. “The lights were amazing and the flowers were perfect. I couldn’t have wished for lovelier guests.”

“You’re beautiful,” he said, shifting across the sand to nuzzle her lightly. “I’m just glad it’s over. I like having you all to myself.”

She swiveled around a bit so that she could look into his eyes.

“I love you so much,” she told him.

“I love you, too,” he whispered to her.

He murmured softly to her, telling her that he’d never met anyone like her, reciting how much he loved her and how precious she was to him. His crooning voice made a quiet accompaniment to the roaring waves, which pounded the sand just a few yards away.

Hidden by beach grass, they embraced, relieved to finally escape their wedding guests. His poetic whispers suddenly ceased as he leaned back and said, "There's something I need to tell you..."

“What is it, darling?”

His tone set her on edge. He’d never kept any secrets from her. His words worried her and she pulled away from him just a little, inching her way across the sand.

He seemed nervous and his words didn’t want to come out.

“Sweetheart,” he began. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. And I know what we decided earlier… but I don’t want to live with your parents.

“What?”

She squeaked indignantly.

“I know we agreed that it would be less expensive,” he said. “But there’s so much of the world we haven’t seen yet … so much I want to show you. I’ve heard Bali is beautiful. I’m tired of hearing about it. I want to see it. And I want you to see it with me.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice?” he asked. “Just you and me, floating around the big blue ocean?”

“You promised.” She spat the words at him. “We move in with them and save money. Soon we’ll have enough for our own place… And I like it here. My mother loves you. She’s already picked the wall-paper for our room. What’s wrong with staying here?”

“Nothing’s wrong with staying here,” he admitted grudgingly. “I just want to see what else is out there. There’s a big, wide world. And I want to know what’s in it.

“And I hate that wall-paper,” he muttered under his breath. “Stupid pink roses.”

“A place of our own. A family. A home. What’s so wrong with wanting that?” she asked.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” he answered. “Someday, we’ll have it. Why do we have to rush?”

She drew a deep breath, not certain what she was going to say to her husband. She scooted away from him, turning her back, trying to gather her words. After what felt like eternity, she turned to face him again.

“I don’t want…” she began, but that’s as far as she got.

The sand, which had been cool and still a moment ago, began to shake and shudder. It thumped and jarred, making their bodies quiver with the beat.

The distance between them, which had seemed manageable a moment ago, stretched like a desert. She trembled with fear as the sand beneath her continued to shake with a strange, unstoppable, palpitating beat. He ran, moving as fast as he could across the sand, trying to prevent disaster.

The night had been bright, with moonlight spilling across the sand, but a black shadow fell across them as the quake continued. She was too frightened to look but he gazed upward to see something huge and pale descending upon them. A fleshy creature, standing tall and terrifying above them, preparing to crush them.

He looked into her beautiful eyes for a moment and knew that he would do anything to protect his love. Gathering his strength, he leapt upward, reaching for the pale, enormous shape that was swiftly descending on them. Closing his eyes, he pinched the beast with all of the force he could muster and heard a scream of pain as he fell back to the ground. He didn’t stop to see what happened, didn’t pause to think. He just grabbed her and ran for the water, pulling her behind him. They scuttled as fast as they could, not stopping until they found the cool relief of the ocean.

Among the rushing waves, they watched as the creature grabbed at his wounded limb, pulling it close and hopping up and down in some sort of strange dance. From this vantage point, they saw another creature not far behind the first, this one smaller, but no less dangerous.

“Honey!” the larger one called out, still hopping in pain. “Something bit me! I think it was some kind of crab!”

“I told you to wear shoes,” the smaller one replied, moving closer to help the first. “But you never listen to me.”

“I think we’re safe,” he told her, laying a comforting claw around her trembling form.

She snuggled into him, taking comfort.

“Maybe,” he said, gazing down at her. “We should just move in with your parents.”

“I’m not sure,” she said, running a claw over his carapace. “I’ve heard Bali is pretty nice this time of year.”

At the bar

Ok, this is another one from a prompt. I was a little bored... so I thought, why not write something. I got it from

http://creativewritingprompts.com.

It's number 58, if you're curious. It's a little cheesy, I guess... and I also don't have any idea where I want to go from here, or even if I want to continue the story, so it's a beginning with no end. Let me know what you think.

# 58

The bar is sticky. I can actually see gelatinous rings of residue from the too-many beers and the dried-up puddles of mystery liquid. My water sits sweating in front of me. I watch another bead roll down the long, foggy glass towards the dark surface of the bar.

I’m not drinking that.

There are dusty motes floating in it and I shudder to think how many mouths have touched that glass before mine. I run a finger down the side of the glass and almost expect it to come away grimy, but it doesn’t. I don’t know why I agreed to meet here.

That’s not true.

I know perfectly well why I agreed to meet here. I came because I wanted to see my dad again. Maybe I shouldn’t have. But when he called and asked me to meet him….

I’ll be honest. I probably would’ve gone anywhere.

On some level, I know I shouldn’t be here. I mean, the man walked out on us when I was eight. I should be furious, shouldn’t I?

But I’m not.

Really, I just want to see him. Even now, fifteen years later, I’m still the eight-year-old girl bringing home gold stars and misshapen pottery. Trying to make him proud.

I turn the glass around on the counter, leaving yet another water stain on the dark wood.

I know he’s not coming. Like he even gives a shit about me.

I’ll give him five more minutes, I think, promising myself and trying to cling to my dignity. I’ve already given him fifteen years. Why the hell not give him five minutes?

I’m not alone in the bar. I guess this place wouldn’t stay open if it didn’t have customers. I can hear a handful of old men playing pool in the dim back room and there are a couple of sallow-faced guys scattered around me on bar stools.

So far no one’s approached me other than the bartender.

He made a face when I ordered the water. Well, maybe he made a face. I can’t tell if he always looks like that. So far, everyone has kept their distance. The footsteps rattling against the wooden floor behind me come as a surprise.

Maybe it’s him?

I plant a smile on my face and turn around.

It’s not him. I’m not sure I would recognize him after all this time, but the man lurching toward me does not bear even a shadow of resemblance to my memories of my father.

The green military jacket hangs on him like a blanket and his dirty gray-and-white streaked hair is a strange halo around a creased and unshaven face. I can see the holes in his shoes from here and it’s hard to tell what color his pants were initially. They’re a strangely mixed grey now.

It’s not him. I’m praying. Please let it not be him.

I can smell him, a mixture of unwashed flesh and garbage, as he bangs into the bar stool next to mine.

“Hiya Janie,” he slurs, plonking his mostly empty bottle of beer onto the bar next to my water.

I let out the breath that I was holding. Thank God. It’s not him. I almost smile, but I choke on another whiff of homeless hobo instead.

“My name is not Janie,” I tell him, trying to avoid eye contact. “I don’t know you.”

What else do you say to a crazy man?

“Sure you do,” he says, grinning. I try not to flinch as he claps me on the back. “Like I wouldn’ recognize ya here, when I seen ya drinking here every Friday night since you was old enough to get a fake id.”

I turn to face him and try to make it as clear as possible.

“I don’t know you. My name isn’t Janie. It’s Margaret. Leave me alone.”

I move over to the next bar stool but he slides over next to me.

“I don’ know why yer bein’ so hostile, Janie,” he slurs. “You know, just the other day, I ran into Old Pete and he asked how you was doin.’ An’ I told him, I says, next time I sees you, I’ll see if I can get you to do yer broken glass trick. You still remember how to do that?”

He’s leaning closer to me and I can see the light gleaming off of his crazy black eyes.

“I don’t know any tricks. I’m not Janie. Leave me alone!”

I pick up my purse and move to the other end of the counter, hoping he won’t follow.

I can hear him before I see him. He moves with a strange, lurching staccato and I hear the beat of his feet against the floor.

Suddenly, he’s close. I can smell him. I shudder a little as he looks me up and down and I feel his glance almost like a touch on my skin.

And now his face is inches from mine. His eyes are sharp and they are looking directly into mine.

“He’s not coming,” the man tells me. His voice is solid. There’s no slur in it now and I notice that there’s no alcohol on his breath. “He’s not coming for you and you’ll never see him again.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he whips around, marching out of the bar with a speed I didn’t think possible in such an old man. I’m right behind him, clicking along in my heels as fast as I can. He beats me out the door and it’s another second before I’m out, chasing him into the blinding sunlight.

It’s another block before I can get close to him.

“What was that supposed to mean?”

He turns around and looks at me, army jacket billowing in breeze like a cape. He smiles at me and I see rows of pearly white teeth grinning from a dark face. Not at all the toothless grin I expected.

“You’ll find out,” he says.

And then he’s gone.

Swimming Pool

This one came from a writing prompt and was written all in the course of several hours, so excuse any typos. It's also, admittedly, a little melodramatic, but I like it anyway. My sentence structure is probably a little monotonous, but I can't figure out how to break it up in here... Anyway, here's the writing prompt: Swimming pool, acceptance, ring.

And here's the story:

The water was a neon-blue, glowing in the almost darkness. It was not quite ten, empty and cool. The air raised goosebumps on her skin as she stood for a moment, staring into the swimming pool. They turned off the pool lights at nine.

She had worked late that night, keeping her fingers hammering at the keyboard until her eyes drooped. It was just busywork, but it meant she didn’t have to think. The she got in the car and drove like a zombie. She scanned her card through the automatic reader at the gym. It was open twenty-four hours, but staff was scarce this late.

She liked it that way. Didn’t want to make idle chit-chat with some chipper twenty-something over how nice the weather was that day. She didn’t even notice the weather anymore.

Yesterday, her boss had grinned and pointed out her soaking wet hair.

“Forgot your umbrella?” he asked.

“Mmmm.”

The noise was as noncommittal as she could get. As close to answer as she could give without forcing herself to form real words.

“We should pay you more, so you can afford one for next time.”

He smiled and invited her to join in the joke. She had to force herself to smile and nod.

The locker room was dark, but she hadn’t turned the lights on. She didn’t need to look in the mirror to see what was missing. She didn’t want to look at her own limp hair and empty eyes. Couldn’t bear to look at the hollow space in herself.

She leapt into the pool before the tears could come. No one was around to see the splash.

The cold was numbing for a few blissful moments before she started to swim. The water held her, cradling, filling in the empty spaces. She hung suspended for a few moments, drifting in silence, until she began to sink.

And then she began pumping her arms, kicking her legs; moving with purpose. The water carried her weight, lifting her up. The day had taken pieces of her. Every day left her with ragged edges, taking away chunks when grief and pain had already taken so much. But the water didn’t care. It held her anyway, soothing, softening the ragged edges until she almost felt whole.

Her legs kicked in long, solid strokes, propelling her forward. When she was in the water, at least she felt like she was moving. She wasn’t sure if she was moving toward something or just running away from something. She tried not to think about it. Actually, she tried not to think at all.

She swam until she was numb, doing laps until she could feel herself sweating, limbs burning red in the neon blue water. And then she swam a few more laps. And a few more. She dragged herself out of the pool when exhaustion set in, when she could no longer lift her arms or kick her legs. Sinking wasn’t an option. Not yet.

She showered quickly, cursorily washing her hair, letting the shampoo run down her body. It was clean enough. Dragging on a pair of shorts and a tank top, she left the almost empty gym and drove home.

No radio. Windows closed. It was surprising how loud the engine roared in the silence.

The car pulled into the driveway of a dark house. He didn’t wait up for her anymore. It was better that way. Better to return to a dark house than to sit for hours in a painful silence, too aware of what was missing, of what they couldn’t and wouldn’t say.

She climbed the stairs without turning on the light. She walked slowly and paused at the top. Her hand rested on the brass doorknob of the little room to the left. Their bedroom was at the end of the hall, but she couldn’t walk past without just touching this doorknob. She didn’t go inside anymore. Didn’t look at the pastel pink wallpaper with little white elephants on it, or the ornate, white wooden crib that sat empty in the corner. She had it all memorized anyway. She didn’t want to look anymore. Didn’t want to think about it anymore. But she couldn’t stop herself from pausing at the top of the stairs, from stroking that little brass knob, just for a second.

She took a deep breath and made her feet move forward. The bedroom door was open, and she crossed quietly into the bathroom, brushing her teeth in the light of the bathroom window, without flipping on the light switch.

He slept lightly these days. She didn’t want to wake him. Neither of them slept very much anymore.

She didn’t know that he wasn’t sleeping. He never slept, waiting for her to come home every night, smelling of chlorine. Their sheets smelled like it now, too. But he didn’t mind. He didn’t mind the smell, at least. He told himself it was ok. Told himself that it was better than the painful silences. He watched her shadowy form in the bathroom, listened as she washed her face and brushed her teeth, trying to take some comfort in the familiar routine. Maybe things weren’t really falling apart, not if they still did the little things.

He played that game with himself sometimes. If we still brush our teeth. If she makes me coffee in the morning. If she still lies down next to me at night. That was the big one. If he could still roll over in the middle of the night and see her sleeping next to him, he could believe that things would turn out all right. He tried not to think about the night when she might not come home.

So he watched as she brushed her teeth and waited for the moment she would come to bed. And he heard her gasp when she realized it.

She noticed the lack. She was so used to it, her wedding ring on her finger. It was a familiar weight. But now, nothing. No sparkle in the mirror. No heaviness on her hand. She looked at her hand, disbelieving, then cursed under her breath.

It must have come off in the pool.

She didn’t think twice before turning around, bolting back down the stairs and out the door. Tearing out of the driveway, she didn’t even notice as he got out of bed, pulled on a pair of sweat pants and sped down the stairs after her. She didn’t notice his car following hers.

He didn’t know where she was going, but he wasn’t prepared to let her go without a fight.

By the time he pulled into the parking lot, trailing a minute behind her little Camry, she had already run into the gym. Nobody stopped her as she swiped her card and ran to the pool.

She could see it. It sparkled against the stark, white bottom of the pool, glimmering blue through the chlorinated water. She wasn’t aware of the tears on her face. She just knew how much she missed that weight on her hand. She looked at the tiny circle of silver and stone resting on the bottom of the pool. She had lost enough parts of herself. She wouldn’t lose this one.

She dove in.

The water was colder than it had been just an hour ago. She felt chilled to the bone and shivered under the water. It was there, on the bottom but suddenly, the bottom looked farther than it had even been. She had swum in that pool hundreds of times. She swam every day. But now the water that had cradled her, had hidden the tears, held her back. Her arms and legs strained against the pressure of the water and she managed, slowly, to push herself to the bottom.

She scooped it up and held it in her hand. It shone in the blue-green light of the water as it had never done in sunlight. Such a little thing, she thought, sitting on the bottom. Such a tiny thing that means so much.

It meant that he would always be there for her. It meant he would always love her, that she would always love him. It meant that they would always take care of each other. Sitting on the bottom of that pool, she knew he had kept his promise, had kept on loving her, even when she was broken.

Maybe, she thought, as she watched the air bubbles rise from her lips, it would be better if she just stayed here. Her limbs felt like lead. Maybe he would find someone who wasn’t broken, someone who would help him fill in the pretty pink room with the elephant wallpaper, turn it from a blurry dream into something real and warm.

And she felt so cold.

She didn’t hear the splash when he dove in after her; only kept the ring clutched tightly in her hand as he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her up with him. She hiccupped as the air hit her lungs, lying, sopping wet at the edge of the pool.

She didn’t realize that she was crying until he ran gentle fingers across her face, wiping away the tears. Carefully, he uncurled her fist and took the ring from her, sliding it back onto her finger, where it belonged.

“I love you,” he said, wrapping his arms tightly around her, feeling the breath as it filled her lungs.

And she let go, for the first time in a long time. She let him hold her tight.

She knew that he couldn’t keep her safe, couldn’t fix everything. But she also knew that she loved him. And he loved her, even though she was broken. And maybe, with his help, she could learn to be whole.

The Riddle

Hi guys,

This one was written for a contest with a specific theme, which is why it's not exactly my usual... The theme of the contest is to write a story of 500 words or less, working with this song:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h75uKyevOkk

Admittedly, not really my musical taste and the lyrics are acid-trippy... Anyhow, this is the story.

****

The Wizard of Aran crept from the castle in darkness. The full moon shone on him as he marched purposefully toward his destination. It must, he knew, be done tonight. Fifty years ago, beneath the light of a full moon, by the side of the shimmering River Wye, he made a foolish choice.

He had cast the spell, the one that had taken his beautiful Olivia away from him.

He remembered her words. They came echoing back to him across the span of years.

“Idiot.”

“Dolt.”

“You think you’re sooo smart, don’t you?”

He could still see her lips cursing him, even after all these years.

He hadn’t even done anything to deserve it.

Ok. So he had turned her sister into a parakeet. But that was hardly a reason for her to shout like that.

His blood had boiled. And the words had spilled out of his mouth. Instead of an angry girl, he found himself facing an angry oak tree. And now her face haunted his dreams.

He crossed the wooden bridge, heavy boots clomping in the silence. He gazed upon her and his breath caught in his chest. Even as a tree, she was incredibly beautiful. The moonlight silvered her leaves as they danced in the breeze.

“Aaagh!”

He went flying into the dirt. He was certain that hole in the ground hadn’t been there fifty years ago. Gingerly, he picked himself up and dusted off his robes, trying to regain some dignity as he approached the tree once more.

Gently, he lay his palms against the smooth bark and took a deep breath. It was time.

Ten times he circled round the tree, chanting, retreading the path his feet had made when he was young.

“My lovely girl

of grass and sky

of darkest hair

and greenest eye

Return to your

true form this night.

For a strange kind of fashion

There's a wrong and a right”

He closed his eyes as he circled for the final time, waiting to be reunited with his love. Unfortunately, he heard her before he saw her.

“What the HELL did you do that for, you bloody IDIOT?”

He’d forgotten the screeching pitch her voice reached when she yelled at him.

“You MORON! Do you know how awful it is to be a tree for FIFTY years?”

Indeed, he noticed, the years had not been kind to her. He’d forgotten that she’d been aging in that tree. Now, instead of a slender, dark-haired girl of 18, he had a fat, grey-haired granny yelling at him. The experience was far less pleasant.

His mouth twisted as she continued to screech.

“Birds crapped on ME! Ever been out in a storm? Try 50 YEARS worth, IDIOT! Do you know what it’s like to have nests in your hair? Eh?”

She paused to draw breath, turning purple as she let loose another volley of screaming.

“I’VE HAD TO PEE FOR 50 YEARS!”

He’d had enough. He pushed up sleeves and shouted, making himself heard over her noise.

“What was done,

Now undo.

Stay in that tree,

You awful shrew!”