Saturday, March 31, 2012

.alone above a raging sea.

 A friend of mine recently started posting flash fiction to his blog once a week. I suspect, among other things, this was a way to get those sometimes elusive creative juices flowing again.

  Now, as you can see, it's been an incredibly long time since I've posted a single thing on here. I'll also admit that I don't write short fiction often anymore (not since I completed my Advanced Fiction Writing course, circa 2003) and I think the last time I wrote what could be considered “flash fiction” was right after my Nana died, when I was 14 and managed to get that small piece published in a magazine I can no longer remember the name of (to this day, the only thing I have ever had published outside of school newspapers and literary journals). But Thursday, I was shivering (because I'm a wimp) on the blue (blue? cold? irony?) line El platform and something sparked this little fragment below, which is still pretty rough. But it's a first attempt, and it's an actual blog post, so yay me!

Cars below were whizzing by with a wet splash, though the rain had stopped. I stood, letting the wind beat against me – my penance – when I saw them. I watched with a mix of revulsion and longing as the man traced his fingers up and down the small of the woman's back. She was of equal height, but huddled beneath his arm and leaning, she made herself smaller. I could imagine his nails dragging, ragged and caught in sweater fabric. Perhaps one or the other tearing. I blinked away a few times – when the red-lipsticked blond clicked by in heels. Or when the silver-studded girl with the jagged haircut and wide-open sky blue eyes swaggered past. 

But mostly, I stared. And thought of you:

Your rare laughter. Your face in the amber lamplight. The curve of your thigh sighing into the hip, rippling into the belly and me, counting the ribs with the tips of my fingers. In the dark, feeling my way around your body with my lips. And then there is a roar, like a tornado.

The train has come and I turn my head away, walk on to the next car and board.

I can't make any promises for further posts, but there you have it.

On a side note, you should follow me on Twitter.