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.