What Lasts Forever?

My apologies I missed last week – I seemed to have run out of ink.

This week’s Friday Fictioneers from Rochelle

Read more contributions with this link.

What Lasts Forever?

It was a dare; we ran naked along the beach.
Months later, the best man embarrassed us. Who told him?
You decorated and choose pictures for our home.
One day you said, “Nothing lasts forever.”
You left and disappeared.
I never liked your taste in art, and I was pleased to dispose of our differences.
But you were wrong.
When I close my eyes, I am with you under the moonlight; swimming.
I dream of us bobbing in the warm water; floating with promises for eternity.
Without your spirit, I flounder in this lonely depth of my dark despairing sea.

Carpe Diem, Quam Minimum Credula Postero

New post on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple

Friday Fictioneers – New Stories

PHOTO PROMPT © C.E. Ayr

Carpe Diem, Quam Minimum Credula Postero

The arrow points towards the airport.
I have not slept for days since my thoughts tumbled and turned as they spun my problem back at me rejecting all solutions.
I’ve come around to a decision.
Tomorrow, they will not welcome me at the arrivals lounge.
Sod them. I will attend my ex-wife’s funeral.
We had lived as if on a roundabout with centrifugal forces pulling our emotions apart. Our love burning at our heels.
We chased after different dreams but promised we would be together again.
We lost; time won.
One day, if and only are the saddest of words.

Piano For Sale

Friday Fictioneers – Read other stories here.

Hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Piano for Sale.

‘It’s in the cellar. Each flat has a storage cage.’
She moved the boxes and we squeezed past towards the piano.
Our noses touched. I felt her heat; she brushed against me to open the lid.
‘You should get it tuned.’
As I played “Liebestruam”, I felt her breath in my ear.
‘You play so perfectly.’
She wrapped herself onto me, her chin on my shoulder.
I played on; my knees quavered, my heart in tremolo and I ached for her.
Poco a poco, our breathing accelerando.
‘You must stay.’
We were strangers, in love with music.
Ci baciamo adagio.

**
(We kiss slowly)

The Honey-Trap

Friday Fictioneers

PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr

The Honey-trap

Anya was naked and walked past.
I stopped reading.
(Mrs Newsome wanted Strether to rescue Chadwick from a wicked woman.)
I was dressed when Anya emerged from the bathroom.
‘Ready?’ She adjusted her blouse.
In East-Berlin, we had met in a provocative gaze across a crowded room.
‘Will he be alone?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘My flight is tonight.’
Col Kryuchkov met us at Marx’s Tomb in Highgate, and I gave him the USB memory.
‘I love you.’ I kissed Anya. ‘Goodbye.’
The encrypted files were bogus lists of double agents.
Another time, they may return to poison me.

Infatuation

 

Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

Infatuation

The draft wafted a fragrance of jasmine across the counter: I looked up.
‘Carmen!’
‘Hello Joe, can I have one for the matinee?’ She fumbled in her handbag. ‘Usual seat, please.’
‘One? What’s happened to John?’
‘Please, I am in a hurry.’ She passed over the ten-dollar bill and grabbed the ticket. A silver ring rolled from her purse and fell behind the counter.
‘I’ll get that.’ I held it up as she walked away. ‘Carmen, your ring.’
‘Keep it, throw it. I don’t care.’
She slammed the door as she rushed out.
Yes! Tomorrow, I’ll ask her to dinner.

 

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This week I prepared a basic book trailer for my novel MISSING. It is on my author page, if you would like to watch it..

Author Page- James McEwan

 

If the Boots Don’t Fit.

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Friday Fictioneers.

If the Boots Don’t Fit

A warm still day; they were a gift.
They hurt his feet, he had said, amazingly his hat fell into the lake.
He swam after it and from the other side he waved, not even goodbye.
How long should she wait? She had said yes; then he wasn’t sure.
She should have said no.
She heard he had a job in Kentucky, drifting with cattle.
Mary-Anne was two today, she needs a father.
How long could they wait? If only she had said no.
Tomorrow she’ll wed a loving man, one who fills the boots with honesty.
She can’t wait.

Unrequited Love

Friday Fictioneers

 

PHOTO PROMPT submitted by Courtney Wright. © Photographer prefers to remain anonymous.Friday Fictioneers

Unrequited Love
Oh Janice, why are you here? I’ll let you rest, I’ll let you be.
Let me massage your weary feet, as you tell me where you have been.
You slept in ditches beneath hedgerows and counted stars to help you sleep.
You’ve travel through forests and barren deserts, while dreaming of my warmth.
You swam the Zambezi? – No! – I didn’t abandon you, look you are here now.
You cannot live without me and have travelled the world for my love.
Here let me make you chicken soup and then a soapy bath.
What now? Sorry, Janice, I never loved you.