Category Archives: emotional

Love is Blind – Flash Fiction

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She strode across the room of the restaurant and punched him square on the nose.

People at the nearby tables stopped with forks mid air to watch this drama unfolding. Dinner and a show. She felt a teeny bit thrilled at the prospect of embarrassing him – she knew how he hated to look bad in front of others – but decided to take the rest of this interaction outside.

“I’m sorry” she half-smiled as he held tissues to his nose and tilted his head skyward.

“Yeah, where the hell did that come from? I know I dumped you and all but seriously, no need” he half smiled back to her.

Honestly, she wasn’t expecting herself to be so angry upon seeing him again. She thought she was over it, but obviously there were some residual emotions there. She watched him for a moment, and then looking around at their surroundings she began to chuckle.

“You have no clue” she stated

He looked at her from behind his wad of tissues; dazed and confused.

“About what you did to me – you have no clue”

“What I did? You brought about the end of our relationship, I just finished it properly”

He was getting defensive, as he always did. It made her sad to think that some things never changed. She liked to think that she had though – wiser, stronger, more willing to say her piece than the timid shy girl she had been when they were together. Definitely not scared to start an argument with him now.

“Y’know, I often think of how close we were to physical violence; a few more months maybe? Would it have started then?”

“What the fuck, Lucy”

“Well you definitely had the emotional abuse down Johnny”

“What? You’re crazy”

“Remember that night? The beginning of the end? It all started because you uttered the words, “If you don’t come over than you don’t love me”, that’s emotional blackmail Johnny, and what’s scary is you don’t even realise you do it”

He looked at her, not saying a word. Finally, something that made him speechless.

“I want to thank you though,” she continued, “You see I was kinda dumb to these things; some say that love is blind to faults, and it was only by you dumping me that I could begin to see clearly the kind of person you were. I saw clearly that you were a controlling, self-obsessed excuse for a man. That our relationship was surely on the edge of being deemed domestic abuse. I wanna thank you for releasing me sooner rather than later; for making me see the truth.”

She could see that he was trying to prepare an argument, his defence to dispute everything she had just said, so she calmly got up, kissed him on the cheek and walked away.

 

[472 words]

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Buttons

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It was when a button popped off, straining under the pressure of holding his blue shirt closed, that he realised something needed to be done. That shirt was the largest one he could find in the shop when he’d brought it, only a few months ago.

The thought of going to a specialist clothes shop, always called something ridiculous like ‘Big & Mighty’, to buy even larger sizes scared him into action. He needed to lose the weight, and fast.

He decided to be smart about it, to go to a doctor first and get the right advice. Crash diets just never worked.

At the doctors though, rather than taking his vitals and discussing the best exercises and healthy meal options, or telling him off for being so glutinous, the doctor simply asked about his life and how things were.

Unsure of what this had to do with anything, he thought for a second before attempting to answer.

He hadn’t really thought about himself lately, figured he was kinda stuck on automatic mode so to speak, going through the motions of daily life without really reflecting on it.

“Well”, he spoke hesitantly, “erm, I’ve just been working really. My mom died last year and I haven’t really wanted to do anything else. Just getting on with it.”

“And how do you feel about your mother’s death?” the doctor asked

He stopped to consider this question before bursting into tears. At first they simply streaked down his cheeks but the more he spoke the more they flowed, harder and harder, his face turning the colour of sweet red cherries.

Through heaving sobs he explained how much he missed her, how he was an only child who never knew his father and with no other family to speak of.

He spent the best part of an hour crying his heart out, talking about his feelings of loneliness, emptiness and uncertainty for his future. He shook with emotion.

Eventually he began to settle and calm down, and as the tears started to ease and subside, the doctor asked him to stand in front of the mirror. A little repulsed at the idea of looking at his fat, puffy, tear-stained face, he slowly got up and stepped over to the other side of the room where a full length mirror hung on the wall. He lifted his gaze unwillingly.

However, rather than the red plum of a face he was expecting, he was surprised to see a much slimmer man staring back.

“All of your “fat” was in fact emotional baggage you’ve been harbouring since your mother passed. You’ve been bottling it all up and with no other release, it simply has to go somewhere. Your fat was the physical manifestation of what you were feeling inside.”

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Filed under based on writing exercises, creative writing, emotional, flash fiction, twist endings, writing exercises

The Mystery of Her

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Day after day, year after year, he had said nothing of his affections. He often thought about doing so, of coming right out with it but he just couldn’t do it. Scared of more rejection, the fear of being even more alone if she spurned him. The one time he did try to tell her he got all flustered and was tripping over his words; he felt like an utter buffoon and came out with something else instead that made him feel completely foolish and left him too self-conscious. It was then he decided that having her as a friend was better than nothing at all, and all though he was completely infatuated with her, he would tell her nothing of his feelings.

They had met at the bookstore, bonded over a love of greek mythology, and since then remained good friends, meeting up a few times a week. She had told him of some on-off boyfriend but other than that she was a mystery to him, a complete enigma. In some ways he thought he knew her but often she would say or do something that made him think he didn’t. Somedays she would be perfectly normal, chatty and friendly, but sometimes she would speak in riddles, avoid answering questions, and always be looking around, almost disinterested.

The chatty friendly version of her became more frequent in their meetings, and whilst he yearned for her to feel the same as he did, he never acted upon his feelings.

One day, he received a phone call from some man. This man was a brother she had never mentioned before who wept down the phone as he told of how she had died in a car accident a few days before. He hung up the phone; not listening to the details of what had happened. He was in shock. He did not want to believe that she was dead.

*****

It took him a long time to bring himself round to visiting her grave. He wanted to do it, say one final goodbye, but it was too hard, too emotional. When he finally convinced himself to go, he stood at her headstone for some time before eventually, with a single tear strolling down his cheek he whispered,

“I love you” his chest heaved and his tears came stronger and harder.

“I love you too” came an emotional voice from behind him.

Slowly turning around, his eyes rested upon her. At the mere sight of her it felt like his heart was going to jump out of his throat.

There she stood, even more beautiful than he remembered. He couldn’t move, stricken with confusion and overwhelming love. The two looked and smiled at each other before he finally strode toward her, full of confidence he had never experienced before, pulled her into his arms, kissed her and held her like he was never going to let go.

“I thought you were dead” he exclaimed through tears of happiness

Nodding, she pulled away from him and took something out of her pocket to show him.

It was an ID card. Underneath the logo of Her Majesty’s Government was a photo of her, next to a name he didn’t recognise.

“Let’s go back to yours,” she suggested, “I’ve got some explaining to do”

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Filed under based on writing exercises, creative writing, emotional, flash fiction, Uncategorized

The Girl in the Green Tshirt

The idea for this story came about whilst thinking about break-ups and how people dread running into their exes. I thought it was a decent idea and makes for a really good piece of flash fiction. I hope you enjoy it too.
SK …

The memory of her haunts me. I always regretted what I did to her; she didn’t deserve it. I was a selfish coward and it caused her pain. Friends tell me she has moved on, that she forgives me, but I don’t think I can forgive myself. I know deep down it still hurts her to think of me; I know her better than they do.

My soul becomes heavy whenever I think of her; my heart always stops whenever I think I see her; sometimes it’s just someone who looks similar, but occasionally, I swear it is her. The guys think I am going mad but it is definitely her. I only ever see her for a brief moment and always in a pale green t-shirt and skin tight jeans; a ghost haunting me. I have to keep reminding myself that she’s not dead, she can’t be a ghost.

Maybe my mind is just playing tricks on itself, a sign of my guilty conscience wishing it could turn back the hands of time. It’s true what they say, you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone. And I made her go; a single moment of weakness that completely changed our lives. I broke her, and I can’t forgive myself.

I picture her everywhere I go, tormented by what I did. I can forget sometimes, allowing myself to relax and enjoy myself a little but then I think I see her, pale green t-shirt and skin tight jeans, shimmying across the pub, or across the street and out of sight, breaking the calm that had briefly settled over me. Sometimes it’s like this phantom of my imagination is mocking me, looking over her shoulder and smirking at me, a glint of evil in her hazel eyes.

I’ve heard that she has moved on with her life, that I need to move on too; but how can I? Everywhere I go I’m reminded of her, even think I see her. Maybe I am going mad. Maybe I am destined to be tormented for the rest of my life as punishment for what I did.

~~/~~
  
It was just a coincidence that the first few times I saw him after our awful break up I was wearing pretty much the same outfit. Whilst part of me had wanted him to see me in something sexier to make him realise what he was missing, I did find it humorous that I was wearing the same outfit like ghosts seem to do in the movies. This gave me the idea of pretending to haunt him. I knew where he lived, where he worked, and where he went out with his buddies. All I had to do was walk on by.

It wasn’t much of a plan but I wanted to mess with his head a little, have some fun of my own after what he did to me.

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Filed under creative writing, emotional, inspired by real life, twist endings

Untitled

This piece is inspired by real life, but given a little bit of exaggeration just to spice things up a bit and make it more interesting. I hope you like it, and I am open to any title sugesstions, S.K …

They stared at each other across the bar. Male ego and testosterone filled the air. Lilly instantly regretted pointing out to new boyfriend Jonny that her ex-boyfriend Dave was in the same bar. She waved and smiled at Dave when he noticed her looking but she didn’t want to go over and say hello; he was with his friends, who she never really liked, but what really held her back was that she could sense Jonny felt threatened. To counteract this, Lilly fawned all over him, hugging, kissing, distracting. Her charms didn’t work though as Jonny continued to give an evil eye. She thought about saying something, but she had only known Jonny for 4 weeks, they were still discovering things about each other and had yet to have a proper talk about exes.  She didn’t want to say anything that might make him more agitated, but she didn’t know what would calm him down either. So she just tried to ignore it in the hope that Jonny would too.

Fed up of the staring though, one of Dave’s friends approached,

“Have you got a problem?”

Dave had followed, trying to keep things calm, but Jonny squared up to him.

Lilly screamed out Dave’s name as he reached his right arm back, and brought it forward, full force, making contact with Jonny’s lip. Jonny, eyes raging, fought back as Lilly watched on, scared. Unknown men jumped in, breaking them apart.

Everyone focused on Jonny, whose lip was bleeding, but Lilly was focused on Dave, who was now walking out. She stormed out after him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

“He squared up to me Lilly”

“I don’t care…”

Jonny burst through the doors of the bar, interrupting Lilly and going for round 2 with Dave. He was like an animal. Right there on the street they went at it again. And again, unknown men came to split up the fight. One of them even got Dave around the neck and dared him to make one more move.

Lilly’s eyes filled with tears; she felt scared and angry. Whilst the commotion carried on, she slipped back inside. She could feel eyes staring at her but she didn’t care, she just sat on a lonely bar stall. One of the bar staff, someone she knew, offered to get her a drink.

“Jack Daniel’s, straight up” she replied

Lilly hated her drinks neat but right then, she wanted the warming sensation of alcohol on her oesophagus. She had been falling in love with this man, and everything she thought she knew about him had fallen apart in seconds. This sweet, sensitive guy she had been dating had instantaneously turned into a madman. From Jekyll, to Hyde.

Jonny came in to find her, but she avoided eye contact with him. She didn’t want to speak him, didn’t have anything to say even if she did. Didn’t know what to think; what to make of what had just occurred.

He pleaded his case, saying that Dave had threw the first punch, but she knew Dave, he would not have done so if Jonny hadn’t squared up to him.

He kept asking her questions but Lilly didn’t answer. Fed-up of trying to illicit a response, Jonny finally gave up,

“Fine. Have a nice life”

And with that he walked away.

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I Don’t Want to Talk

This piece was inspired by the first line of Abba’s “the winner takes it all”. I have used it as my starting off point but unlike the song, about seeing someone who has hurt you, my main character is the one who did the hurting. I hope you like it, and please feel free to comment weather you can relate, have praise or have constructive criticism 🙂  …

I don’t wanna talk about things we’ve gone through. I thought I did. I would rehearse with the version of you in my mind what I would say. I wanted to tell you everything; explain why I did what I did; apologize.

And now here I am face to face with you after so long. A chance encounter. My chance to talk and I’m struck dumb. Too chicken shit to finally have my say and ask for forgiveness. Caught off-guard, thinking you were out of my life, never to come back; the ghost of my mind out in the world for everybody to see. When our eyes meet, all I can do is smile sheepishly. I’m scared to confront our past. Everything I thought about saying, I don’t want to say anymore. I want you to know how sorry I am; that I’m ok and hope you are too, but I can’t bring myself to speak out loud. My rapidly beating heart turning my body weak as I stand and look at you. It’s all I can do.

I feel my present, dragging me away from you, my past. I walk away so freely but constantly looking back. It’s too easy to say nothing. And as I walk away, I secretly hope you will come after me, force me to confront you.

Maybe it is for the best that I walk away though, that the past stays in the past. I don’t want to relive it; I don’t want to talk about the things we have gone through.

 

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Filed under based on real life, emotional, inspired by lyrics

27/365 – In Hospital

 

Day 27 – A story very close to my heart, inspired by real life, but edited and exaggerated…

I stood over her hospital bed, looking down at her drifting in and out of sleep. This could be her last day on earth; hell it could be mine, I could get hit by a bus on the way home. I needed to do something; I could tell Nan was itching to do something too. Two weeks in a hospital bed is enough to send you a bit stir crazy, but when you’re just watching time tick by, wondering if this will be your last hour, that’s got to be torture.

Ideas started to race through my mind; I wanted to give her one last adventure. Every time she opened her eyes, I could see that mischievous look of hers. It was her body dying, not her mind. But how could I do anything when she was all wired up? And it’s not like I had the means to take her anywhere; I can’t drive, so it’s not like I can kidnap her and take her home; her absolutely favourite place. This had to be small. Small but significant. She was 77 after all; she’s done her living; this just needed to be a “see ya later world”.

I came out of thoughts when my parents left the room to speak to the doctor. This was my chance. If I was going to give her one last hoo-hah, this had to be it! I couldn’t watch her waiting to die. Waiting to die is not living. I desperately wanted to give her one last chance to live; to go out of this life happy, not bored.

I acted on impulse. I couldn’t take her to the adventure so I had to bring the adventure to her. I had very few resources. Running down the 6 flights of stairs from the ward, I went to the little on site shop looking for inspiration.

Running back up the stairs, still avoiding the lift, I went back to Nan. In my hands I held a pack a cigarettes and a lighter. Rummaging through my Dad’s coat, I hit the jackpot; his hip flask. Rubbing my fingers over the engraved initials of my Granddad, the idea of my grandparents reuniting in the afterlife crossed my mind, and a smile crossed my sorrow.

My parents were still in discussion with the doctors, so locking the door, I turned the lights on bright and woke up my Nan. Smiling I said “I’ve got something for you” lifting up the pack of cigarettes and the hip flask; her eyes brightened and she smiled. She’d given up smoking many years ago, but it didn’t seem to matter anymore. Placing a straw in the hip flask, I bought it up to her lips; she drank with such enthusiasm. Lighting her a cigarette, she inhaled as if she had never quit.

A sense of peace seemed to wash over her. Her face was more animated now; not a hospital face at all. We sat smoking and swigging from the hip flask, telling jokes and reminiscing. She told me that she wanted to get up out of bed and have a proper look at the view from her window. Sitting her up fully in bed, I struggled to swing her weak legs out of bed and onto the floor. Picking up her catheter bag so she didn’t pull it out or trip over it and with her hand on my shoulder, I lead her over to the huge floor to ceiling window. We looked out over the city of Birmingham, pointing out the university clock and trying to work out where home would be in relation to the hospital.

She reminisced some more, telling me a little about her childhood. Taking a few more drags from a cigarette, she coughed and spluttered.

“Smoking kills” she said

“oh well” I replied light-heartedly

“I’m not scared” she whispered.

“I am”

Leading her back into bed, she thanked me for getting her out, and for giving her one last cigarette. I’d do more if I could I thought to myself and all of a sudden she started to sing. Averiderci Roma, my granddad’s favourite song.

She stopped singing and just lay there. The time in between each breath became longer, and the breath shorter. I bent my head down, resting it on her shoulder, listening to the world going on on the other side of the door.

“Goodbye Nanna” I whispered “Love you”

And listening  for her breath, I heard silence.

 

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