Friday, August 23, 2013

TLS's Flash-Fic Fridays are in full effect! Come and see who's flashing us this week: 8/23 - 8/28



Each Friday a new prompt will be posted along with the previous week's winners.What exactly is a Flash-Fic? It's pretty much a spur of the moment, tiny story, prompted by words, images or silliness. Not sure if you've ever been on twitter when this has happened, but it's pretty awesome when it does. It also happens often in threads, with a combination of people contributing. 

How does it work? Each Friday one admin of TLS posts a picture prompt here to the blog. Using this image, entries are created by commenting on this post. Submissions must be 100-300 words ONLY. No more, no less. The entries are then judged and we post the winners here, each Friday, to share with all of you.


You will have until next Wednesday at 9 p.m. EST to submit your entry.

Picture prompt and judge this week is: Surething302

Please leave your submission in the comment section at the bottom of the post using this format:Your name (use your Twitter, Facebook or FFN name)Your link to your FFN profile if you choose to share it. Submissions will be judged on Thursdays and on Friday the winning entry will be posted here, on the TLS blog. This feature is open to everyone, so come one, come all!


"If I love you, is that a fact or a weapon?"


Word Count: 185

"If I love you, is that a fact or a weapon?"

You don't understand what I mean. Your face is hard. Unreadable. Deliberate.

You reach out to touch my hand. I pull it away.

We used to live in a bubble made from stone. It's almost like we're there now, but the bubble is translucent. I'm aware what's on the other side.

You begin to speak and I beg for you to tell me what I need to hear. You close your mouth. I want your lips on my neck. Don't say it. It's all wrong, isn't it?

Press my cheek to your leather jacket, let me smell wood and winter. Mask the exhaust in this parking lot.

Let's pretend for a while. Cover my ears with your hands. Take me away and unbutton my blouse then say things you'd never say anywhere else.

Your expression is here and now and it kills me.



"Fact or weapon?" My god, I don't even recognize my own voice.

A million seconds pass before you say, "I don't know." And then you admit, "Both. Mass destruction."

Word Count: 253

"If I love you, is that a fact, or a weapon?"

You always had a funny way of showing your affection.

As though you knew a language, but forgot all the words. Lost the ability to speak, even though nothing was wrong with your tongue. Just stared at me with raging emerald eyes and your tongue tied between your teeth like stitches holding together a wound.

Scarred across the mouth and right through the very center of your heart.

“Everything about you is infuriating,” you say and I wither, a flower caught under the baking rays of the run. “I didn’t want to do this,” you whisper and I fold, an origami creature smashed flat under your weight. “You made me fall for you,” you hiss and I shatter, the slow motion view of a bullet through a water balloon.

When you tie me down, it’s your adoration speaking.

When you blindfold me, it’s your lust.

When you wrap your palms around my neck and fuck me with no air, it’s love.

You still haven’t said the words, but I know they’re there, somewhere. Between my skin and the metal around my wrists. Beneath the silk of your blindfold, dipped in acid truth and my eyes can see everything, even in the dark. The gag in my mouth tastes of stone-washed regret and I wonder why you can’t just say it. Why you can’t show me in a way that doesn’t involve weapons and handcuffs.

Body armor and a battle plan.

I am a prisoner of your war.

I’ve already given myself up.


Word Count 297

It starts with a rose; fleshy, red petals laying softly on the porch. She picks it up, inhaling the sweet, fresh fragrance. Carrying it into the house, she places it in a glass of water. A smile curls at her lips.

Weeks pass. She finds more gifts; old, dusty books, classics she has loved. She opens them and motes dance in shafts of light, particles itch her nose.

Then a note. Lipstick smeared on dirty glass.

I love you.

Months pass. From the corner of her eye she sees a dark-haired stranger, the blur of a car as it accelerates away from her house. She pulls her collar up, keeps her head down. Wishes herself invisible.

A newspaper cut up to form new words.

You’re mine.

Spring becomes summer. Windows are flung open, doors left unlocked. A doll on her wrinkled bedcovers, its once shiny, brown hair has been ruthlessly chopped, body mutilated. She comes home late from work to find the stove burning hot, a stainless steel pot full of steaming, bubbling water. She is too afraid to look inside.

A note next to it, this time handwritten. Only one word.


This time she calls the cops. They laugh.

Years pass. Plump thighs turn slender then thin, lush hair becomes lank. Her natural posture is stooped, body shaking like an old man. Her eyes dart from left to right, rarely meeting anybody’s gaze.

Work is her only escape. She arrives early, leaves late, is grateful for the security guards. Her computer screen is her friend, until the day an IM slams onto her screen, making her heart drop.

I love you.

She leaves the office that night, her body weary, her gait slow. He waits. She walks. He wields love like a sick weapon. It burns.


Word Count: 300

The knowledge you can't have something makes the unattainable shine.

It lures you with curls brushing the delicate skin of bare shoulders, lips wrapping around words that steal your attention, bright eyes holding a thousand promises across your heart.

"Maybe you could come by the coffee shop sometime, Edward?"

She's a break in the clouds, a caress of wind on a deep summer’s day.

Everything I need.

Everything I can't have.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea." I hate the lines of disappointment I’ve etched onto her face.

"I'm sorry that was inappropriate."

Her embarrassment is unnecessary. I want to tell her I think about her when I shouldn't, picture her smile when I'm alone.

"No I’m sorry. I should go." I wish she could see every facet of my apology.

There are so many.


She's kept her vigil, curled on the window seat.

Her breath frosts the glass where she traces patterns, eyes glittering navy blue in the dim light. "I've missed you."

"I'm home now." I pull her into my lap. Relief wilts her body while guilt settles heavy in my chest—bleak as the snow covered garden.

"Remember when I lost control and crashed my car into the crab-apple?"

Memories of the night I’d forgotten to call home shudder deep in my bones.

"Yes." My voice croaks, breaks, cracks.

"The tree hasn’t blossomed since. Do you think I killed it?"

Love for her strangles the answer in my throat. "No, you didn't."

In weighted silence, I trace the silver scars on her arm, translucent in the moonlight. My penance for the night I stayed out too late.

This love binds us in shackles that maim and slice. She believes holding my heart is worth more than the beat of hers.

So, I let her crush it.


Word Count: 298

Funny how time can shudder to stop, a tiny breath, a tortuous frozen instant when you reach a pivotal shift in your reality.

A light mist coated the quiet street and my skin, chilling, moist, bitter. Better to hear the sound of my heart ripping wide, I suppose.

I stared through open blinds at one of the dozen quaint little tables in the quaint little cafe. Jake leaned across the white Formica and pressed a kiss to Leah Clearwater's lips. As though he had to taste her now, this very instant, couldn't wait until the hindrance of the table was removed.

I stood in pained stillness, my breath fogging the window, but not enough to obscure the couple holding hands inside.

No, I wouldn't be so lucky.

Someone jostled against my shoulder in passing, but my gaze didn't falter from the pair. A quaint little bell tinkled as the stranger opened the door, the chime harsh in my frozen quiet. Jake looked toward the sound. I felt the burn of his gaze the instant he saw me, fiery and excruciating, even as the icy mist coated my skin. He shoved away from the table, said something to her, then strode quickly to me.

Too late.

He stood beside me—not true. I'd always been one step behind, never more proof than the dark-haired girl waiting patiently for my boyfriend inside that cafe.

He stood near me, his voice low, intense. “Bella.”

I shook my head.

He reached for me, tried to pull me into an embrace.

He would lie. Tell me he loved me, that I was reading the situation wrong. My naive love for him his greatest weapon against me. If I loved him, after all, I would trust him.

I sucked in the frigid Washington air. “No.”

The Lemonade Stand would like to also thank all of the participants. We thoroughly enjoyed ALL of the entries!


  1. Bravery0898

    Word count: 298

    I am daring today and sit right next to her on the sand. I am not affected by her. I haven't memorized the small divot of her lip or the length of her eyelashes.

    I am not bewitched by her existence.

    I don't look at her as she sits in her small black bikini, perfect breasts and flat stomach. I don't notice the sunburn forming on her pale shoulders. Or the way her dark hair slides off her shoulder as she inclines her head toward me.

    Instead, I stare at the ocean. I am indifferent because that's who she wants. She certainly proved that a week ago when I saw her kissing that asshole.

    "Edward...he kissed me, and I pushed him away." She reads my mind.

    We aren't together. She doesn't need to explain. Not now.

    "Bella, you can kiss whoever you want."

    Moments pass.

    "The ocean reminds me of your eyes," I hear her say. My breathing increases. "But you won't look at me anymore."

    I close my eyes as the familiar yearning fills me.

    "I miss our talks," she continues.

    I freeze. She kills me.

    And I hate myself. Because I'm a liar. I'm not indifferent. I'm affected. I'm bewitched. I notice her.

    "I can't be your friend anymore." I feel brave as I say this. But it's wrong. I'd rather be her friend than nothing at all.

    "I never wanted to be your friend," she sighs. "Never."

    My heart races.

    My eyes move to her and see the fearful, hopeful longing in her own.

    A warm smile spreads across her face.

    "There you are."

    She lays her head on my shoulder.

    I don't fight the shit-eating grin that spreads across my face.

  2. Nuttyginger
    Word Count - 299

    I dream of you. Every night, I lay my head on the pillow, your pillow, and smile. It’s my favourite time of day. I know that in a few short minutes, the sleeping pills will kick in and I’ll be with you.

    As always, we’re sitting on a beach. Today it’s Waikiki, from the last trip we took together. The soles of my feet sting in the heat as I walk towards you, your back to me. I can still see the faint red lines from where I raked my nails down it last night.

    You hiss as I press the ice cool bottle of water against those scratches. Tugging, you pull me down into the sand, rolling to near on top of me but mindful of the families nearby.

    “You minx,” you growl, but your eyes sparkle in playfulness, so full of laughter.

    I may have seen your face a thousand times but I can’t help but stare. You’re beautiful and you’re mine.


    “Nothing,” I smile. “I was just wondering what I did so right to have you wander into my life?”

    Your hand reaches up to caress my cheek, you gold band glinting in the bright light. “You were you; perfect in every way.”

    A beat or two passes before I burst into laughter. “God, that was the cheesiest of cheesy!”

    You blush, and I can’t help but kiss you. “Just as well I love you, your cheesy lines and all!”

    We lie there, cocooned in our own bubble, talking about everything and nothing at all. The sun starts to descend, and I know we have to leave soon.

    The beach scene begins to fade, taking you with it. I wake to another day where you are no longer in my world. At least until tonight.

  3. @bebeginja
    Word count: 298

    She’s there.

    I can’t believe it. She’s actually there.

    She remembered.

    I squint into the midday sun, against the ocean air kicking up grains of sand as it breezes off the Pacific, and take a long, hard look at Bella to make sure I’m not imagining what I’m seeing.

    That was the last place I saw her, sitting just like that, in that exact spot. Four years ago, the summer we left for college.

    “I don’t want to go,” she told me, leaning her head on my shoulder.
    “Yeah you do.”
    “Yeah . . . I kinda do,” she laughed.

    It was time. We were both leaving this small town, discovering the world on our own. We promised each other we’d keep in touch. And we have, for the most part, but college life and work make for busy lives. Not to mention opposite coasts. Social media made it convenient. Random texts to say Hi and share old personal jokes made the time pass a little easier.

    We also promised to return to this place.

    “The next time I see you, I want it to be here. Just like this. Meet me here. In four years, after we graduate. Okay? Promise me, E. No matter what.”

    I take a step off the concrete stairs leading from the parking lot to the beach and begin walking to her, my eyes fixated on her nearly bare back. Before I know it, I’m running, thankful that the hot sand quiets my footsteps.

    Bel-la, Bel-la, Bel-la my heart sings with every stride.

    I slow to a walk as I get closer. Hesitating slightly, I walk up next to her and sit down to mimic her position.

    “Hi,” I say guardedly.

    She leans her head on my shoulder. Smiles without looking up at me. “You remembered.”

  4. GemmaH
    Word count: 300

    “You’re sure you have to leave tomorrow?” she asks. I smile sadly at the way she pushes her bottom lip out like a little girl.
    “You know I do,” I tell her, slipping a finger beneath the tendril of hair that reaches down to the swell of her breast and gently lifting it over her shoulder so it trails down her back instead.
    “I can’t believe it’s been two weeks already,” she laments.
    “I can’t believe it’s only been two weeks,” I tell her, bending to kiss her gently. She leans into me, pressing her lips more firmly against mine until I open up and let her in, moaning as I remember the things she did to me with that mouth this morning.
    “It’s going to be miserable here without you,” she whispers as she breaks away, her fingernails scratching gently against my scalp as she sits nose to nose with me.
    “You’re only here for a few more days,” I say, eyeing the muscled shirtless guy walking past us and wondering if she’ll be looking for comfort in a new pair of arms as soon as my plane leaves.
    “I’d leave with you if I could,” she tells me with the most impressive case of puppy-dog eyes I’ve ever seen. I can’t help the laugh that bursts from me. She looks hurt and I rein in my mirth, although I can’t hide my smile.
    “You’d regret skipping out on extra days in this sun when you touched down in the rain,” I tell her, wrapping an arm around her and holding her close as I work out if I can afford an extra ticket home.
    “I doubt it,” she says.
    I pause before I speak the most impulsive four words that ever left my lips.
    “I have a proposition…”

  5. @Twilightladies1
    Word Count 298

    A couple sit further down the beach. Their bodies are angled toward each other as the girl laughs at something the handsome boy says.

    I should look away. I should turn and walk in the opposite direction forgetting I ever saw them. Instead, I stand frozen unable to move.

    Silent tears fall down my cheeks. I don’t wipe them away.

    You were supposed to wait for me.

    One year.

    We didn’t even make it to Christmas.

    You surprised me one weekend. I thought it was romantic, that you couldn’t bear to be away from me. I was wrong.

    You loved college. It suited you. You loved the freedom, the parties… and the girls.

    It was over. You wanted to enjoy college life properly. And the proper way was single, without a girlfriend pining for you back home.

    I cried. I yelled. I threw stuff and told you to leave. I didn’t mean any of it.

    As the summer months loomed closer I listened to the rumors. You were coming home. And you were bringing someone.

    I dreamed of the moment you would be back here. In our spot. I never thought you would be here with another girl.

    She’s beautiful.

    Her blonde hair shimmers in the sunlight, her shoulders tanning in the midday heat.

    You smile at her and my heart shatters. That smile used to be for me. I hate that it’s now hers.

    In those moments I realize it’s over.

    Planning to follow you to the same college is not an option. I can’t be near you and watch you love another.

    With one last glance at my past, I turn and go back the way I came.

    I don’t see you turning round, or the smile that falls from your face when you see me.

  6. bonadea777
    Word Count: 243

    It is just another day in paradise. We are sitting on the beach. It is our honeymoon. We are a perfect couple. My bleached-blonde hair looks nice against his olive skin. I smile. Jake is a generous lover. I can still feel his kisses all over my body. Mrs Black this time…
    It’s my fifth honeymoon in the past seven years. It’s my third time at Belize and it‘s getting old. Maybe Maldives next time?
    Tomorrow Jake will get on his boat and sail to the sea, the defective wire will cause the fire. A honeymoon tragedy. The inconsolable widow (me) will collect three million dollars in life insurance.
    Just one more day in paradise and I will be free to join my husband, partner and love of my life Edward Cullen.
    My wife is sitting next to me on the beach. Bella. The name suits her. We do look good together. She is blonde and I have a black hair. We are a perfect couple. The sex is amazing too. I still have one more night with her. Bella, Nessie, Leah… The list is too long. I have to admit that I will miss Bella but I will do anything to keep my girlfriend Vicky happy.
    Tomorrow I will take my wife on a boat ride…Defective wire. Fire. Boom. Three million dollars in life insurance.
    From a local newspaper: Honeymoon Tragedy. A Seattle couple married last weekend vanishes at sea.

  7. Rebadams7

    Staycation Blues?

    Seriously. He though they should stay home. Clean up the apartment? January grey now.

    The tickets burned in her inbox. Sand. Sun. Warmth?

    Where was our warmth. She stared at the photo, a kiss silhouetted against sunset and palm trees

    Where is our warmth?

    She didn’t even text him. He’s bright-he’ll figure it out. 48 hours on the ground. She ran out at 4:59

    Telling the gate agent to fill her spare seat. No tall dark or handsome, just a tired girl like her, earbuds and sunglasses.

    Each plops on the sand, at the edge of the family area, but not quite in the couples either.

    No man’s land

    all we had now was words
    about my time and her time and our goals and her goals and timetables and....and a promotion
    after a lot of late nights....Cleveland?

    The beach said clothing optional. He didn’t care.... he didn’t give a fuck.....

    She stared at the softly waving blue sheets. Mockingly modest A sign?

    Past this point bathing attire is not required. Clothing optional. Fresh towels here
    repeating in four languages....

    Slipping past the blue barriers, she felt empowered. Her body might not be enough for him but it was enough for her

    They hadn’t crossed paths yet, ahh but the sight of so much skin. It was easy to feel beautiful as the chubby hubbies frolicked with their children on the sand. Old skin, new skin
    every where skin.

    As they crossed the beach, the eyes met. Caught doing? What? Exactly.
    The scorching sun kissed areas not used to the light of day and wincing, they crossed in retreat.

    Bumping hands at the gift shop while seeking relief.

    A drink


    that perfect like a picture kiss on a sunset couples beach.