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Gerald stepped out of the fitting room in a floor length evening gown, slinky and figure hugging.
“Oh, God,” said Cynthia. She put her head in her hands.
Gerald frowned and retreated back behind the curtain.
He reappeared in a pencil skirt and pussy bow blouse, both fitting rather snugly.
“Gerald!” muttered Cynthia. “You’re embarrassing me.”
Looking daggers, Gerald disappeared again, reappearing for the last time in a catsuit that left nothing to the imagination.
“Well, I am not going out with you looking like that!” said Cynthia.
Gerald straightened his shoulders. “You know, you could be a little more supportive.”
Cynthia sighed. “Gerald, you are really going to have to face it. You’re just not a size 10.”
“Oh, God,” said Cynthia. She put her head in her hands.
Gerald frowned and retreated back behind the curtain.
He reappeared in a pencil skirt and pussy bow blouse, both fitting rather snugly.
“Gerald!” muttered Cynthia. “You’re embarrassing me.”
Looking daggers, Gerald disappeared again, reappearing for the last time in a catsuit that left nothing to the imagination.
“Well, I am not going out with you looking like that!” said Cynthia.
Gerald straightened his shoulders. “You know, you could be a little more supportive.”
Cynthia sighed. “Gerald, you are really going to have to face it. You’re just not a size 10.”
Literature
sepulcher
your body is jerusalem,
he’ll tell you
coveted first, then plundered.
– you’re my backwater bedroom
martyr, he’ll tell you
as he nails your wrists
to bedposts,
seizes your tongue like
a white flag,
pulls stones from your parapets –
little sister,
i’ll tell you
the children’s crusade
is lost:
and you’ll kneel at his sword and know
you were always his
to take
Literature
21.15 Mnemonics
He awoke to sunlight in his eyes and the smell of her. Every day, he would stay in bed just a little bit longer than he ought to, just to bask in the glory of smell she had left behind. It was roses and mint and sandalwood and woman and a million other things he couldn’t have described, even if he tried, but it was her, and he would never forget it, as long as he lived, and probably not for a long time after he died.
But every day, the smell grew fainter, the sheets seemed to grow colder, and it was one more day since the last time he woke with her actually there.
Literature
Eliana - Prologue
The whole world was watching when the Prime Minister had a knife driven through his heart.
Eliana was home sprawled on the floor, a pile of gears and and bolts and screws splayed out before her. She only half listened to the news caster as she excitedly commented on proceedings. Ana’s mind and fingers more concerned with building a pocket-sized catapult, per her father’s instructions. Her father sat behind her on the couch, his posture sloppy. Quite unlike him, his elbows on his knees, one hand buried in his hair. The action let his ears show, the pointed tips quivering as he strained to hear the news over the sound of ElianaR
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119 words.
Written for Flash Fiction Month 2015: Day 5.
There was the suggestion that we might like to go outside today and watch people.
Yeah, no.
But I did use the One-Word Prompt: Judgement ^^
Written for Flash Fiction Month 2015: Day 5.
There was the suggestion that we might like to go outside today and watch people.
Yeah, no.
But I did use the One-Word Prompt: Judgement ^^
© 2015 - 2024 SCFrankles
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funny!