Geographical Escape 2.8: The Eye of the Storm

On July 16, 2013 By buildingalifeofhopeIn Flash fiction3 Comments

Her earthy sensuality drew him to her like a magnet. He had not wanted to attend the art show opening but Joe had insisted he give it a try. Karen’s good friend, Ella, was showing her paintings and sculptures at a local but well-known gallery that night. Joe wanted another guy to join him. He knew that Tom, his long-time friend since childhood, would not let him down.

He was surprised by the emotions her work evoked in him. The images varied; landscapes, abstracts, etc. But it was the ones that displayed human relationships that grabbed his heart. He found himself not able to stand, so he took a seat by a window bench. From this vantage point he was able to observe the easy way she worked the room. She had a peaceful charisma about her and laughed easily. To Tom, she was the piece de resistance- a woman who possessed both an inner and outer beauty. Her auburn hair flowed onto her shoulders, her green eyes glimmered, her skin was neither porcelain nor olive toned. It exuded warmth- a place where he could softly land.

She found him there after the show was done. “You look a bit out of your element,” she said.

“I want to buy one of your pieces,” he replied.

They had been inseparable ever since. Her calming self-assured nature provided him with a sense of peace that he had never known. Together they created a life filled with children and solid friendships.

She still painted and sculpted in between raising the kids and creating a home. She had become active in the valley’s art community and it was there that she met the president of a nearby art college. He was impressed by her work and her leadership as well as her promotion of the arts at the local level. He offered her a teaching position at the school and also wanted to commission her work.

As a result of this offer, Ella wanted to expand her studio space to the room above the garage. She had even gone as far as accepting a few bids for the job. Moreover, she had quickly said yes to the position. All three kids were in school full time and her schedule would easily fit in with theirs.

Tom completely supported her executive decision. His relief at not being caught helped make it easy for him. Summer ended. Fall began. Work buzzed along smoothly. The studio went up quickly. When he had to work late, he would often find her there lost in her work. Many nights they made love on the floor amidst the spilled colors and clumps of clay. Her lips always offering words of love. Her hips like pearls of water. Her skin once again giving him a soft place to land.

Geographical Escape 2.6: Fog

On July 14, 2013July 24, 2013 By buildingalifeofhopeIn Flash fictionLeave a comment

photo credit: globeattractions.com

He woke up with his face in the sand and a bone- cold chill running through his veins. He was completely disoriented as he sat up to look around him. The beach was encased in a thick fog. He felt like a castaway who had washed up on the shore after a shipwreck. She was a ghost once more. Forgetting his nakedness, he walked to the lean- to just to be sure . Yep. Just his bike and his pack. She was considerate enough to bring his clothes up from the beach before she left. He dressed quickly and pulled out his cycling jacket from the pack for extra warmth.

The fog made it difficult to follow the roads and anticipate the curves and hills that were easily mastered yesterday. He hoped that he was going in the right direction to the ferry. He didn’t have any idea of the schedule nor did he know what time it was- he left his phone back in the room. He was trying not to panic as he carefully negotiated the route back.

He arrived at the town’s landing damp and still cold. Luckily, there was a general store that was open. He tried not to look too relieved when he found out they also served coffee and snacks. As he sat at the tiny service bar, he noticed that the ferry schedule was posted on the wall. None going out for four more hours because of the fog. Even Earl’s mail boat was hung up. “Don’t worry honey. Fog will lift soon. Earl was just asking about some biker over the two-way. He’ll be happy to bring you back once I get the mail sacks from ‘im.”

While he waited, he drank more coffee and read yesterday’s news. He tried not to think about her and the sense of abandonment that he felt. He only wanted to feel warm again.

“Good gosh you old son-of-a-gun. You look like a lost puppy.” It was Earl. “Time to get you back to the mainland, my friend.”

The ride back was quiet as the fog cleared completely. When they reached the pier, Tom noticed that the vessel that had been undergoing repairs was gone. “Word is they left just after dawn. Needed to get ahead of those ocean storms.” Earl talked as if he were to trying to explain the situation. Well, what did he expect? They treated one another like friendly strangers at best. No more. No less.

When he finally got back to his room, it was nearly 2pm. His phone was noisily vibrating with messages from home. He listened to his children sing their “Daddy I Miss You” song. Then there was a message from his wife. Her tone was serious. “Tom, call me when you are not too busy with those endless meetings. The kids and I are headed to Karen and Joe’s until you get back. But we NEED to talk.”

Geographical Escape 2.5: Open Water

On July 13, 2013 By buildingalifeofhopeIn Flash fiction2 Comments

photo credit: www.thesurvivorsclub.org

She was gone again at dawn. Another note- a map with a big red X and the words “Meet here at 1 and bring your pack.” His body was feeling worn and sore so he rolled over and slept for a few more hours. When he awakened, he texted his wife saying that he had landed safely and he would be in meetings so he would be hard to reach. He showered, then headed for the diner and wolfed down the lumberjack special.

The route was easy to follow and ended at a lobster boat pier. Few boats were docked given the hour. The area looked deserted save for the mail boat and another vessel that was undergoing repairs. A fit guy of about 30 was working on the engine. Tom noticed that he sported a bike tattoo on his upper left arm.

“Hey, you here for the ride to Stonington?” The voice was coming from the mail boat. Tom looked over and saw a wiry old man at the steering wheel. “Lauren told me to be expecting you. Climb aboard but take off those dang shoes first.”

As the old man revved the boat’s engine, he waved to the man on the pier. ” Good old Mikey. Getting that old girl ready for the sail south. Spends his winters doing triathlons. Plans on heading out sometime tomorrow.” Tom couldn’t help but notice the piercing look Mike gave him as he left the shore.

He had no idea where they were headed. The old man gave him the lowdown about the journey. Fifteen miles out from the mainland lay a small island whose mountains rose hundreds of feet above the water. Few people lived there and those who visited were ones that wanted to hike its challenging trails or bike its winding roads. “Lauren is the perfect guide for this place. Knows every nook and cranny no doubt.”

When they arrived, Lauren was at the landing. “Thanks Earl. See you soon!”, she said. “Ready?” she asked Tom.

The ride was majestic as they made their way through the twists, turns and places with names like Trial Point, Duck Harbor and Sheep Thief Gulch. The day’s light was just beginning to dim as they arrived at a small cove. It was completely private- a lean- to was off to one side of the beach. Before them lay nothing but sand and water.

“Take off your clothes. We’re going for a swim.”

The water was icy and nearly stopped his breath. She brought him close to her and wrapped her legs around his waist. They kissed long and hard. His body was numb with the cold. They fell into the surf at the water’s edge each taking turns with their knees in the sand. Their union was long and satisfying. He felt baptized by the experience.

Soon, she lit a fire in the sand and brought down blankets from the lean-to. They joined one another again and then once more before the flames died out. They fell asleep to the sound of the roaring waves.

Geographical Escape 2.1: Vortex

On July 9, 2013 By buildingalifeofhopeIn Flash fictionLeave a comment

photo credit: www.myfountainonline.com

Stepping inside, she leaned back against the door and said: “Which do you want first? A cold one or a hot one?” He took the beer from her hands and put it on the table by the window. His heart was racing. He felt the rush of adrenaline and pure heat. Grabbing her by the waistband, he pulled her to him with a force that drew him down. He stopped thinking and felt himself falling further and further into an unknown abyss. He could taste her desire, her hunger. They did not speak. She pulled at his belt and his shorts fell to the floor. Then everything came undone. They were skin to skin. Until now, he did not notice her youth. She was clearly a decade younger than his 37 years. Her body was angular and thin-a cyclist’s frame. He had to keep himself from comparing her to his wife’s soft suppleness- a mother’s body. Ample in just the right places for him and still sexy.

Her assertiveness astounded him. He felt helpless and at her mercy so he let himself go. After, they shared a beer or two and spoke only of cycling as if they were buddies trading stories. It was both strange and comforting in its simplicity. The night stretched on pretty much like their earlier bike ride-back and forth in a silent lustful rhythm ceasing only to refresh themselves with another beer.

He began to feel the sweet release of his current suffocation slough off with each meeting of their bodies. Maybe this is what he needed- a distraction that took him to places he could only experience with a stranger. Maybe this would be enough to quiet his mind.

With the beers gone and their bodies finally spent, they fell into a deep, tangled sleep. In the morning, she was gone- leaving only a note with her name: Lauren.

Geographical Escape 2.0: The Slippery Slope

On July 8, 2013July 24, 2013 By buildingalifeofhopeIn Flash fictionLeave a comment

photo credit: oabchurchconnect.wordpress.com

She stood there with a six-pack in her arms wearing a pink t-shirt and navy short shorts. The simple ensemble enhanced her sea blue eyes and her trim, fit figure. Her curly blonde hair was still damp from a recent shower and the wetness dripped down her shoulders through her shirt.Everything about her exuded a certain confidence and energy that he noticed immediately when he came upon her on the bike route earlier that day. She had just finished fixing her flat when he stopped to help. No need to play hero; instead she invited him along for the rest of the ride. They fell into a back and forth rhythm and cadence, each drafting the other as the route climbed and dropped along the rocky shore. She didn’t seem overly curious about who he was or where he was from. Yet, he had somehow let it slip that he was passing through and staying at one of the local places for the night. In truth, he had yet to check in anywhere. Somewhere along the way he decided that he didn’t feel like going home. When the ride ended, she let him know that she had to get to her afternoon shift at the local bike shop. She gave him directions and told him to stop in to check it out.

Before he knew it, he got himself a room and after showering, shaving and grabbing a quick bite at a nearby diner, he drove down to the shop. It was definitely a hang-out for the area’s cycling community and everyone seemed to know one another. She was busy chatting up a customer so he pretended to look around at the merchandise. After she rang up the order, he brought over a bike bottle (He really didn’t need one but how else to slip her his room number?) He handed her his debit card along with a piece of scrap paper-Room 204.

In the meantime, he covered his tracks with his wife. She had left a message that their youngest child’s cold had worsened to a serious cough and that they were going to the doctor’s. Later, his wife left a voicemail stating that the doctor recommended some time at the beach to cure their daughter’s congestion. She and the kids were heading south to Karen and Joe’s beach place for the night and into tomorrow. A slight pang of guilt and then relief washed over him. He made a quick call to work to let them know about his daughter’s illness and then he was done.

He swallowed his feelings and concentrated on what was about to happen.