Tag Archives: love

Love is Blind – Flash Fiction


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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Filed under emotional, flash fiction

More Than Words – Flash Fiction


“I…” he stumbled over the next word he wanted to say. He couldn’t make the sound; felt like he wanted to choke on it.

Jenny looked at him expectantly, waiting for what he was going to say but she glanced back down at her menu when she realised he definitely wasn’t going to say it.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He had said it before – probably a million times over in the 4 years they’d been together. What was so different now?

Jenny lead the conversation throughout the course of their meal, where he could respond normally, but when a natural silence came, as usually happens, he would try again to say it, always stumbling over that one word. It was a time when he felt the need to say it, would usually say it at such moments. But now it was like the word physically repulsed him; made him gag almost.


After a few days of this and wanting to say the word at least what felt like a thousand times, and not just because he couldn’t, he decided to confide in someone.

“Mom, I’m having trouble expressing a word and I don’t know why.”

“What word?” she asked, looking puzzled at such a notion,

He shuffled awkwardly and made an attempt to say it, but, as before, the word just could not be formed and spoken a loud. He growled in frustration.

“How do you feel about me, mom? and Dad?”

“Well I love you both very much, of course”

“That’s it!” he exclaimed, “That’s the word. I physically cannot say it”

“What, love?”

“Yup. Can’t say that. It’s like my mouth can’t form it. I, I want to say it, but I just can’t” His voice softened, “I haven’t been able to for days. Jenny probably thinks I’m going off her.”

“Are you sure you feel it? This could be some sort of psychological thing y’know”

“Definitely. And y’know what, I’m not overly bothered about why I can’t say it; I just need to be able to say it to Jenny. I don’t want her thinking that I’ve stopped.”

“Well, some say that actions speak louder than words. You’ll just have to show her.”


He felt a bit dumbfounded. What did he usually do to show how he felt? He thought but nothing came to mind. He couldn’t think of anything he did for jenny as a show of affection – they kissed and hugged, sure, but he did nothing else. Whenever he felt love, he’d say so. He could not think of a single thing he did as a show of affection and appreciation for Jenny.

He asked himself, “What is romantic?” and when he couldn’t come up with a decent answer himself, he turned to books, and movies, and began observing other couples when he was out and about.

One day, when they were out walking the dog, he saw a couple walking hand in hand so instantly grabbed Jenny’s.

“What are you doing?” she asked, sounding unimpressed.

“Just wanted to hold your hand,” he responded, before getting a little bit defensive, “Is that a problem?”

“No,” She chuckled, “Just not something you usually do, that’s all”

She smiled and started swinging their arms as they walked along.

he noticed as they walked that she seemed brighter – an inner voice screamed at him to tell her;

“You look beautiful today Sweet,” he stated

She looked at him bemused, but didn’t say anything, just smiled.


He tried a couple of different romantic gestures and they seemed to satiate Jenny when she was full of expectance, waiting for him to declare his love, but he felt like a fraud; it wasn’t natural for him. Jenny wasn’t even the kind of girl for grand gifts and public displays.

When he brought her a large bouquet of deep red roses, her face lit up, glowed even, but then took a serious look quite quickly, asking what he had done wrong, questioning his fidelity to her.

“You idiot!” he thought to himself afterwards, “Roses aren’t even her favourite”

He tried a couple of other things but each time felt like he wasn’t being genuine with her – like it was all show and no meaning.


A few weeks later he was at the supermarket, wracking his brains for new ideas. He was absolutely frustrated with himself. “ Who knew that words and actions were so inseparable” he thought.

He picked up the few things that they needed and when walking past the medicine aisle decided to get some tissues and throat lozenges for Jenny who was coming down with a cold.

“Thanks honey,” she murmured when he got home, “You’re so romantic”

“You think?”

“Yeah. That was a really thoughtful thing to do for me”

He smiled widely, proudly realising that romance wasn’t all big, fancy dates and grand gestures.

“I love you” he said.


And whilst he was glad to be able to say it to the woman that mattered most, he never actually used it as often as he used to, enjoying the discovery of little things that filled his and Jenny’s heart with love.

After all, sometimes, actions do speak louder than words.


[866 words]

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Desperate Times



He looked at her. His hair was still a mess and in the bright morning sunlight he looked more handsome and more human than she had ever seen him.

“I guess I’m asking you to trust me.” he said

Every fibre of her being knew that trusting him would be a really big mistake but she felt that this was her only option – she was desperate.

Taking a deep breath, she folded her arms and said, “OK.”

Walking across his office from her spot in the doorway, they shook hands to seal the deal.


She questioned what she had just done as she walked through the streets back towards her home.

She kept telling herself that it was for the greater good, that everything will be ok now. No amount of reasoning seemed to settle her anxiety though.

It felt like a heavy stone had lodged itself at the base of her sternum; her heart beating faster in a miserable attempt to get it moved.

“It will be OK” she kept repeating to herself. After all, some say that the bad times have often got to get worse before they can get better.

But she didn’t know just when they would get better – part of the deal was that he could use her anytime, anywhere, and for any reason.


When a few weeks had passed and he still hadn’t reappeared her nerves were in absolute pieces. She found herself relying on smelling salts every few hours or so just to revive herself and her senses.

In an attempt to distract, she called upon one of her sisters to come and take a walk with her.

“So what’s going on with you?” her sister asked as they strolled through the park.

“Oh, nothing; let’s not talk about my boring life, I want to know about you.” came her reply, hopefully not sounding too secretive.

Her sister went on about the little ones, and her hopes for another. They talked about childhood memories and their mother and father. The little outing proved to be a great source of distraction. That was until he appeared, as if from nowhere, in front of them.

“It’s time” he smiled at her, offering his hand as if he were a gentleman

“You know this man?” her sister queried

She stood between them like someone who had just been caught cheating at a card game; not wanting to admit the truth, but unable to think of a plausible explanation.

“I’m sorry but I have to go” she turned from her sister to follow him but her sister grabbed her arm, turning her back around.

“You can’t go with that man” she declared
“I have to. It’s the only way to make things better”

Her sister sighed, lowering her voice “He’s strange. I get a bad feeling about him – like my blood turns cold just laying eyes on him”

“I have to go, we have a deal”

“But who is he?!” her sister demanded, holding tighter to her arm


And with that, she tore her arm from her sister’s hand and went with him – off to fulfil their deal so she could finally get what she needed for her dying son.


Filed under creative writing, flash fiction, Uncategorized, writing prompt

The Mystery of Her


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”


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


I should probably state from the outset that this piece is about domestic violence. I have written on this subject before but in this piece I’m trying to be different by writing from the perspective of the abuser. I am aware that not all “abusers” are like this, and that domestic violence is never this simple; I’m just trying something. I hope that you like it. SK

I awoke in an empty bed. Stacey was gone. I noticed bruising on my knuckles and instantly grew frustrated with myself. Letting out a heavy sigh, I reclined back down, brought her pillow to my face and with a growl, I let out my frustrations.

I had been doing so well, learning to control my temper, to voice my concerns calmly and rationally. I was becoming a better man for her. But when I got angry I was like a monster unleashed who didn’t care who he hurt. I couldn’t even remember what had made me angry last night; what had set me off. I don’t remember hitting anything. Must be getting worse if I don’t even remember lashing out. Maybe I should double up on the counselling sessions, spend a little time away from Stacey, give her a break from me; that’s if she hasn’t left me for good. Not that I would blame her; she deserves so much better than me.

I really wasn’t a bad guy. I didn’t stop her seeing her friends or tell her how to dress – I just got angry over sometimes stupid things, we’d have blazing rows and then I would just see red.

I lay in that bed, frustrated, but talking myself through the steps, calming myself down. I heard the front door open and close. Unsure of what to do, not remembering that I lashed out at her, I stayed where I was as Stacey approached the bedroom.

“Hey you” she chirped, “got us some coffee”

She reached out her hand to give me the still hot Starbucks cup.

“I thought you had left me?” I uttered, somewhat confused

Stacey looked at me, also confused.

“You were gone… my knuckles are bruised… I thought that you had left me because I hit you again”

“You didn’t hit me” she replied

Then she smiled and pointed at something behind me. Turning, I saw that my bedside table had a fist-sized dent in it.

“Happened about three o’clock this morning, I did get a little scared and went downstairs, but when I came back you were still spark out and looked calm and peaceful.”

“I hit the bedside table? It still could’ve been you; what if I hit you in my sleep?”

“Honey, the doctor says you’ve come on really well; you can speak to her about it if you’re really concerned, but you are doing so much better”

A sense of calm saturated me as she said this. I knew she meant it and right there, I fell a little bit more in love with her.


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Filed under based on writing exercises, twist endings


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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Filed under based on real life, chick lit, emotional