Tag: #FWF

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 2.3: Nightmares

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Flash fiction5 Comments

photo credit: www.lisamccourthollar.com

He was enveloped in darkness. Sitting in a dank hole. Naked and surrounded by the fetid smell of his own feces and urine. Drip, drip, drip. Something-water, maybe- kept hitting the top of his head. He got up to feel his way around. SLAM!  His body rammed against metal bars. He gripped them tightly, screaming: “HELP! HELP! HELP!”  No words left his throat. Something was attempting to pry his hands from the bars.  He kept hearing his name and the sounds of rasping breath…

“Tom, Tom, wake up!” It was his wife. She was trying to loosen the grip of his own hands on his neck. He suddenly became alert but his breathing was labored and he was sweating profusely. “You were having a terrifying dream.” There was concern in her voice. He muttered something about pressure at work. Looking out the bedroom window, he noticed that the sun was rising. Good time to clear his head with a ride. He dressed quickly, filled his water bottles and hit the road.

He refused to think about the nightmare. Instead,  he focused on the rush of riding fast and tackling the hills. For the next week, he was on automatic pilot. Rise early. Ride until it hurt. Work relentlessly. He made love with his wife each night with the sole purpose of feeling exhausted in order to ward off the fear of another dream.

The remedy was short-lived at best. He felt on edge. While work was going exceptionally well and home life was harmonious, the old churning and burning was kicking his ass. His boss was pleased with the latest project’s  completion ahead of deadline and suggested that he take an added break to spend time with his family. Tom took this as a sign. A way to remove himself once more. He had two more days at work to come up with another escape plan.

He told his wife nothing of his boss’ recommendation. He kept his bike at work on purpose so as not to raise any suspicion. When he awakened on Thursday morning, he told his wife that he was going to ride his bike on a route from the office. He took the first of two small bags with him and placed them in his truck. The following morning (still with the bike at work), he pretended to have gotten a text from his boss asking him to come into work ASAP. He took another bag with him under the auspices of another “ride” later. Just before noon, he placed a call to his wife, telling her that he had been called out to the West Coast site to fix a problem. He would need to fly out in the afternoon. No need to worry about clothes he told her. He had enough with him because he had been cycling from work.

By the end of the day, he was ready. The hard part was over. Surely a week of distraction would help cleanse the dirt from his mind and spirit. Before he knew it, his truck was moving northward once again.

Geographical Escape 2.2: Coming Up for Air

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Flash fiction6 Comments

photo credit: warmnotes.com

He let out a sigh. Time to refocus. He looked at his watch: 6 AM. Good. He would drive into work and be home in time to see his wife and kids. A quick shower would wash away the remainders of last night’s  encounter. He dressed, put the note in his wallet and hit the road.  As he entered the highway a wave of nausea hit him like a Mac truck. He pulled over on the shoulder and crawled over to the passenger side of the pickup, opened the door and bent over. Must be the beer from last night, he thought.

He arrived at work earlier than usual and had a very productive day-meeting his deadlines with relish and very little pressure. He gave himself enough time at the end of the day to stop at the store and buy all the ingredients for dinner-wine included. He missed his wife suddenly and without a second thought, bought the biggest bouquet of flowers that he could find.

When his family arrived, the table was set, wine was poured and dinner was ready. They all looked relaxed after their respite on the beach and greeted him with joy and laughter. He felt good. At bedtime, the kids went down with ease-salt air does have that effect-so it was a pleasant surprise to find himself wrapped in his wife’s arms without either of them collapsing in exhaustion. She talked of their trip to the doctor’s and the home grown remedy for their daughter’s barking cough. How Karen and Joe opened up their home to all of them and of how the sea air had been a  rejuvenating experience. He listened attentively smiling inside and out. He kissed his wife tenderly and held her close. He loved the feel of her skin, the small rise in her stomach and how he could hold her breasts with his hands.  When he entered her he felt whole again.  She smelled like home.

Flash Fiction Frenzy

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Uncategorized3 Comments

photo credit:  www.dailypainters.com

I am calling on my fellow bloggers, followers and more seasoned writers of fictional pieces for feedback on my recent foray into fiction. This is my first go ’round in the genre and I am trying not to panic and lose confidence in my developing ability for quality writing.

The initial installment of Geographical Escape was born out of Kellie Elmore’s weekly Free Write Friday Prompt. As with all of Kellie’s fine ideas, it took me to an unexpected place! A character was born and his story is still being told.

I am completely wrapped up and obsessed with writing this week. My heart is nearly constantly racing, I run hot and cold and I cannot slake my thirst! I know it is connected to the story and not to anything like this horrible heat and humidity, my vigorous exercise routine or perimenopause!

I want a story that is not too predictable, a character who is flawed-gray, not black and white. I want minimal dialogue so the reader is inside his head. In fact, I am not sure I even want him speaking out loud yet!

So there you have it.  Three installments published. A fourth ready for tomorrow and # 5 for Friday ( I hope).

In the meantime, I will break away every now and then to read your posts and comment on them.  Your writing fills me up!

Thanks for your help! 🙂

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.

Geographical Escape

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Flash fiction11 Comments

fwf gif prompt

Here he was again. Holed up in some two bit motel with walls so thin he almost felt like a participant with the couple in the next room.  His wife and kids didn’t even know he was gone. He left that morning for work with his bike strapped in the truck bed and somehow he found himself driving north towards the coast. The nagging feeling of suffocation walled him in once again and these excursions were his attempt at trying to cure himself. He’d done it countless times before and never told a soul.  One day he was up in the mountains riding a fifty mile stretch through hairpin turns risking life and limb just for the rush of it all. Still another time he awoke before dawn telling his wife that he was taking a half day to ski some trails before work. He arrived home past the kids’ bedtime with the excuse that he had to make up the hours. In truth he never arrived at the office.

These departures were becoming more and more frequent. He often found himself making up stories of business travels so he could be gone for days at a time. In reality, he was no more than a day’s drive away, sometimes in a backwater town and more than likely warming up a bar stool after a long day on his bike or on the ski trails depending upon the season. At times, he enjoyed the idea of sneaking away but mostly he felt guilty for removing himself from his family in such a deliberate sort of way.

But that was just about as far as he let himself think about the reasons for his behavior. Just as he was about to change his mind and leave, there was a knock on the door.  Too late now.  He let her in. Another piece he was weaving in his web of deceit.

 

This post was inspired by Kellie Elmore’s Free Write Friday.  http://kellieelmore.com/2013/07/06/fwf-free-write-friday-but-its-saturday-again/.

 

 

Solstice Walk

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn poetry21 Comments

Summer Solstice

Then followed that beautiful season…Summer.

Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape
lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Slipping out of work day clothes

into shorts, sleeveless and sneakers

The stroll through the lush streets commences

The sun’s heat sinking into my exposed skin

Surrounded by summer sounds

Singing of tots on the swings

Smells of freshly sown grass

Visions of deep blue contrast with endless glaze of green

Slowly exhaustion gives way to serenity

I ascend towards the sounds of the clock tower bell

serenading us with its medley of silvery songs

I am in the midst of stones both ancient and unseasoned

The souls gather their dust in the soil

Lives well-lived

Basking beneath a daytime star

A perfect Free Write Friday prompt from Kellie Elmore today!  http://kellieelmore.com/2013/06/21/fwf-free-write-friday-quote-prompt-summer-solstice/