Flash Fiction

Lips moving without words, soft, unspoken. Tasting the lemonade from her cup and telling. She crossed her legs and sat back into the chair, letting her arms flop over at either side of the armrest, as though to portray an image of being somehow cool. I mean, the thing that bothered me the most was she didn't even pretend to care. Her reputation was longer than her arm and not in a good sense, but she managed get her claws into him somehow.

Hindsight occured to me as I walked back from the party late that night. I knew I should have called him but I continued into the scattered darkness and hurried home. I opened my purse and took out the door key, wiping my feet hastily on the mat as I entered the house.

I hated coming home to an empty house, though sharing it with somebody after living by myself for so long was a far worse concept. Peace and quiet is sometimes all I desire, moments away from the madness. Time to observe lifes precious gifts, borrowed time that waits for no man like a bubble that breaks at my very touch and transcends into over a thousand drops of liquid on the floor.

I brushed unopened letters carefully to one side with my foot and stumbled into the living room to switch on the light. My attention was immediately drawn to a box sitting on my coffee table, it wasn't there when I left and I certainly didn't put it there. I walked over cautiously. The lid sprung open, I was pleasantly surprised by what I found hiding inside. A dark figure caught my eye I glanced up and to my astonishment she stood there, leaning against the doorway with a knife in her hand.

I felt a lump appear in my throat as I tried to wash it down with a huge gulp, my chest tightened and the sweat poured from my forehead. "Would you like me to get you a drink" she said dissapearing into the kitchen and wearing the apron my mother had bought me as a joke last christmas.

 

 

Reviews

[buoyantMaureen]

I can't tell if this person is talking in hindsight or if this in present tense? At first I thought the protagonist was on the chair slipping lemonade. It starts out very poetic and then becomes very prose-esque, straight forward.

"wiped feet"? is this barefoot? that's a good image, walking home from a party without shoes. It tells a lot about her personality. mention it but don't emphasize it.

I don't understand. There are so many questions left unanswered but not in an entirely good way. what was in the box? why was she pleasantly surprised? Is this all happening at the same time? Or is it multiple events occur simultaneously. What about the apron was a joke?

this is a very good first draft but I think it could be even better if you were to chose a definite course of action and stuck with it.There are too many things going on.

[John Knowles]

I really like the cold opening. The whole intro paragraph is awesome, especially how it ends. I also like this line "moments away from the madness." really awesome. I'm confused at the end though. Is the she wih the knife at the end the same one as in the beginning?