Tag: escape

Geographical Escape 2.7: Breakwater

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Flash fiction4 Comments

photo credit: www.searchlightphotography.com

A searing bile rose up in his throat. He ran to the bathroom and heaved noisily. His mind began to race. How could she have found out?  He thought that he covered his tracks. His world was about to implode.

Maybe Joe would have a clue. He inhaled deeply as he pressed the contact number on his phone. “Tom, buddy!  How’s it going out there?”  Joe answered in his usual hearty voice. “Karen and the kids and I thrilled that Ella and your brood will be coming down. And we are so excited to hear about Ella’s job offer and her ideas for the studio!”

Tom quickly shifted gears. He explained that Ella’s good news was the reason for his call. Without missing a beat, Tom told Joe that he was planning to catch the next flight home and surprise everyone down at the beach. He would probably be there tomorrow. Joe promised to keep it to himself.

With that decision, he bought himself some time. He took a long hot shower and scrubbed himself until his skin felt raw. Last night’s shenanigans, his abbreviated sleep on the sand, the strange  journey back to the motel and his recent emotional state had left him drained. He crawled to bed and fell into a deep sleep.

When he woke up the next morning, he was ready to go. He had enough clean clothes since he only had worn his cycling outfit for the past 48 hours. If his wife asked about the bike, he would just say that he stopped off at the office to get it after he landed.

He pulled into Joe and Karen’s place bursting with confidence. And there they were: his beautiful family: The boys with their jet black hair and his daughter an exact replica of her mother. Flowing auburn hair and those deep green eyes that you just lost yourself in.

He had returned to safer harbor. Or so he thought.

Geographical Escape 2.6: Fog

On 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 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 2.4: Diving in the Deep End

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Flash fiction4 Comments

photo credit: www.awakeninthenow.com

He wasted no time checking in. Same place. Same room.  He found his cycling clothes, packed up his energy bars and headed out on the same route. He had no idea if he would see her. He wasn’t one to normally tempt fate-he was too impulsive for that.  He rode and rode, often coming upon other cyclists but never Lauren.

He couldn’t help feeling disappointed as he pulled into the motel’s scrappy and weedy parking lot at sunset. He’d clean up, get a meal at that diner. In the morning maybe he would head over to the shop, see if she is there. If not, he could at least get some information on other bike routes to explore. He couldn’t think of leaving yet.

He smelled her before he saw her. The sweet scent of female sweat. She was relaxing on the bed in the waning light still dressed in her cycling outfit. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail atop her head with little ringlets falling around her face and ears. Her bike leaned against the dresser.

“Room was an easy entry”, she said.  “Just slipped my credit card between the dead bolt and the frame.”  A jolt went through his body. The rush that had been missing these past few weeks was back.  He climbed on her fully clothed, his mouth and tongue together with hers. The taste only energized him as they both attempted to remove the skin tight shorts and tops from themselves. Their bodies were sticky and moist. They reveled in the pungent scents and salty flavors created by the hard riding they had done. He savored the sweetness of her fruit and she was ebullient in response to the feast she laid before him. They moved in and out of one another with ease and vocal enthusiasm.

Darkness had descended when they were finally done. They took turns washing one another in a gentle, sacramental way.  And then hunger and thirst visited them like a wild animal. He wrapped her in a towel, puffed the pillows and ran to the diner for takeout and to the nearby store for beer.

They consumed the food and booze voraciously and then fell into a satiated slumber.  A few hours later he was awakened by the sounds of his own moaning. “I love dessert”, she said.

Geographical Escape 2.1: Vortex

On 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 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.

Traveling Light

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Independent WomanLeave a comment

“Sometimes you’ve got to let everything go-purge yourself. If you are unhappy with anything-whatever is bringing you down, get rid of it. Because you’ll find that when you’re free, your true creativity, your true self comes out.”

-Tina Turner

This summer I took a trip to a far off place with my sweetheart. As with any trip, I fretted about how much to pack. And it was not because I needed to have fancy clothes and the shoes to match each outfit.  As a runner and a yogi, there will always be the extra clothes and the mat factored in for my trips. Still, it was important to me that I not have the luggage be a burden in my travels.

I am sure some of my thinking was due to the fact that I was once the mother of young children ( ooh the items necessary for survival!) and the fact that in my profession, lugging a bag and a laptop-along with my lunch-is part and parcel (ha!) of my daily existence.

But I am weary of the burden of carrying things with me all of the time. I want to feel light and move quickly- in spite of my age!

Since the trip, I have decided that the one thing that I did bring is one of the metaphors for how I have begun to live my life. I absolutely adore my tiny, tri-colored shoulder purse! It is just the right size for my small wallet (how many plastic cards does one really need anyway?), my reading glasses and cell phone. I have been using it for just 5 weeks and it has proven to be all that I need in my everyday travels.

So, this small item has really gotten thinking about how my life in the last five years has been made lighter as well. I am no longer married. Therefore, the person and his large amount of  accompanying accessories left the house.(Listen to Miranda Lambert’s song “Baggage Claim” if you want to catch my drift!) Truthfully, when this happened, I think that I not only exhaled for the first time in years but the house did as well.

I am sure that this major event caused a seismic shift in my outlook on life. I began to realize that there was space between things: thoughts, actions, relationships. Life was moving towards a easier path. Not challenge-free by any means, but one that opened up my heart and home to new people and experiences.

Even though money was very tight, I began to give things away. As a result, the house underwent a karmic shift. Among the few new things I got was a new bed (of course) and, in turn, I  gave the old one to my youngest son. Suddenly, it seemed that my small house became the place for all sorts of social interactions. My sons’ friends spent regular time here and they didn’t mind my company! We ate, talked, and watched movies together. My sons threw me birthday parties. My graduate school friends made this the place to work on our projects. We never laughed and swore so much during that process! And we all got  A+s to boot!

Love came back into my life in a way that I never expected.

So I guess you could say that my little purse is about letting go and letting in. Just as I have the three necessary things for my purse, so in turn I have what is necessary for my life: family, friends and love.

When the things in your life don’t allow you to move, think clearly, or to even breath, you have to unpack them!  Then you have to either give them away or throw them away. When this happens, newer, more positive experiences can occur if you let them in your heart.