It’s time for Friday Fictioneers. Thank you Rochelle Wisoff Fields for providing the prompt. It’s a great way to get to meet other bloggers. If you would like to participate please click here. Thanks to Dee Lovering for the Photo. Hope you enjoy my spin on the prompt below.
Time Stand Still
Phillippe’s blue eyes never waver from me. I listen to him talk in his thick, Spanish accent as we stroll through the crowd. After a month of intimate talks and stolen kisses, time is slipping away.
“What are you thinking?” Phillippe says.
“I’m thinking I’m going to miss this.”
“You know I can’t. The boys have already called wanting to know when I’m coming home. I think my mother-in-law is suspicious. It’s been three years since David’s accident, but I think she expects me to mourn forever.”
“Come, let me love you while there’s still time.” Phillippe says.
Mondays Finish the Story prompt for this week is, “Are you laughing at me?”
Below is the picture prompt. If you would like to participate click the link here.
Thanks to Babso2you for the Monday Finish the Story challenge.
Just Among Friends
“Are you laughing at me?”
“Well, you are the one swooning like a school girl over yellow orchids. They are not even roses.” Juanita says as she sits at the table drinking her coffee, and watching her best friend, Vernice, place the orchids in a vase.
“Roses are overrated. I’d rather have an orchid any day.”
“Umm… Hmmm…..” Juanita says peering over her mug.
“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” Vernice says as she eyes her friend while arranging the flowers.
“I’m enjoying watching you squirm. Ms. We’re just friends. I’m too old for a serious relationship, you said. You made it sound like you had one foot in the grave. And now you are sprinting around like a teenager”
“I am not.” Vernice’s cell phone rings. She answers in a high pitch voice, and her face lights up.
“What are you doing Giselle? He’ll kill you if he finds you.”
“Natasha, This life is killing me. Pietro’s popping pills in us like their candy. . Men touch us like we’re their property.’
“You don’t think we all feel that way? But, I’ve been here three years, and no one has escaped Pietro, and lived to tell about it.”
I continued curling my black hair. Pietro would collect me in five minutes
Kielo, the FBI agent, had paid to have me. We had been planning this for three weeks. I snatched up the passport, and placed it in my purse.
As Pietro drove me to what I hoped to be my last job, I beheld the lake by the house. A year and a half had passed since Mr. Palmer kidnapped me. I couldn’t lose it now. I had to keep it together a little while longer.
If you would like to read the rest of this series click on the category Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers Series to the right.
If you would like to participate in FFfAW click here.
Thank you so much Priceless Joy for providing this wonderful outlet for all of us writers. You have been such an encouragement!
It’s time for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers again. I didn’t intend to, but it looks like I have a series going on. It is about a girl who has found herself kidnapped, and thrown into human trafficking. Human trafficking knows no age limit, gender, or socioeconomic boundaries. It is modern day slavery.
I am thinking about expanding these stories, but haven’t decided yet. Let me know what you think. I love your comments. Having a blog has been such a positive experience for me. I have enjoyed each, and everyone of you.
If you would like to participate please click here.
If you would like to read the first story in this series, click here.
You will find the second story in the series here.
A Performance of a Lifetime
Women and men dressed in business attire rush past me. At the train station, everyone is rushing to make their commute. I’m walking with our caravan clad in the finest fashion has to offer.
Our cover is, we are models headed to a shoot. My name is Giselle (it’s really Olivia). Every day it is instilled in me to walk like a model, and talk Italian. I watch as Pietro, my John, takes care of transportation for us.
He purchased me for $10,000.00 on the island. The other girls tell me that’s the rate for a virgin.
During the day I am tutored in Italian, and at night I am mauled by businessmen, and celebrities. I am always at someone’s apartment. Most of the girls are at shanty brothels.
“You are fortunate.” Natalie, my roommate, said.
“Being home is fortunate. This is hell.”
I board the train, and take my place beside Pietro.
“Take this.” Pietro hands me a pill. I don’t know what it is, but I know better than to say no.
I don’t remember the train ride. Later, Pietro hands me another pill, and I begin my night.
“All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know. So finally I would write one true sentence, and then go on from there. It was easy then because there was always one true sentence that I knew or had seen or had heard someone say.”- Ernest Hemingway