~Picture it & Write! - Temptation

~Picture it & Write!

Temptation

I had been so sure this day would never come. I missed him so very much. He was my best friend, lover; my husband of fifteen years.

Then on his way home on a routine day on a routine route, an accident happened. The one that took him away from the kids and I.

I stare at the picture on the cover of a romance novel my sister bought for me. She dropped it off when she took my children for a sleepover with her two sons.

Romance novels had been a guilty pleasure. I'd stay up late until almost daylight reading them once or twice a month until Brian died.

I couldn't touch one for the last two years. Just looking at the cover reminding of all I had lost. But as I glaze down on the book in my hand, I wonder if the characters I create in my mind will look anything like the ones on the cover.

I lay down on the tattered beige sofa thinking I should be cleaning the kid's bathroom. I turn to the first page. I'm lost. See you at sunrise.

Hope you enjoyed the flash fiction. 

Blessings,

Leann Holland

~ Picture It & Write! - Water's Edge

Water's Edge

(A short story)

Today would have been her twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Yolanda Dean never expected to celebrate it by herself. They had made plans now that both kids were graduated and in college to travel a little. They, she and her husband, Lonnie, loved sunsets over water. They had traveled all over the west side of the state of Michigan taking pictures of the sunsets, entire walls showcased the beauty of Lake Michigan. It had all started with their honeymoon in Holland, Michigan.

Now, she sat here on the edge of the Pacific Ocean looking at the most vibrant colors they'd seen this year. But Lonnie's chair was empty.  She wouldn't cry. It had only been a month since his passing. It was so sudden, so unexpected. The kids told her to come and not let the tickets go to waste. 

Ermilia's ~Picture it & Write! Click the picture to learn more.

Her mother was sitting back in the hotel. Yolanda asked her to let her do this alone. Standing at the water's edge, she held his urn tightly. It was time to release his ashes per his request to be scattered over water during a beautiful sunset. Tears flowed down her lined checks, lines that weren't there a month ago. 

"Goodbye, my love!" Yolanda tried to let go. She cried harder. "Sorry, my love! You're coming home with me. I'll let you go over our beloved lake which isn't this far away from me." Hugging the urn sitting down in her borrowed beach chair, she picked up her bottle of iced cappuccino and drained it. Resting the bottle on her knee, the sunset magnified. She felt God and Lonnie smiling down at her.

Help Requested - Critique Needed

Writer's Digest, a website and magazine, offers an online flash fiction contest called Your Story. I never seem to remember until the last minute to check out the prompt. (This month I remembered two days late, Your Story #29.) Last month for Your Story #28, I got the story written but life did not allow me time to edit and get it entered into the contest.

I have decided to share it here on my blog and request honest if gentle feedback.

The Bet

Tidying up the beige damask pillows on the overstuffed couch, my hand touch something cold and hard. Afraid I let my hand close around the object and pull it out, a silver and black cell phone. What the? It wasn't my husband's or mine. We haven't had anyone over since those boorish Tinnins last month. The phone began to play a ringtone I didn't recognize.


I slid the phone open. I had never seen one like it even in commercials. "Hello."


"Melissa?"


"Yes."


"You don't know me."


Well, duh, I was holding an unknown phone in my hand. How did he know my name? "What's going on here?" I demanded. "Who are you?"


Laughter was the reply I received.


"I'm going to hang up if you don't answer my questions."


"I'm glad to see you haven't lost your humor." A unknown male voice said. "Melissa. Melissa, have patience I'll tell you everything in time."


"Who are you?" I whispered. Then stronger, "Well, get on with it. I don't have all day." I gathered my cell phone on the way to our home phone.


"Melissa, there's no need for that." he said.


My eyes scanned the room. How could he see me? The sage drapes were pulled closed. What should I do now? Play it cool, "No need for what?"


"Go turn on your computer." he ordered.


"Why?" I stood there frozen as dozens of scenarios ran through my thoughts. Then I laughed.


"What's so funny?"


"Okay, where's the camera?" I asked.


"What are you talking about?"


"You know those old TV programs that catch you doing something silly or dumb." I stifled a giggle.


"Wrong show!"


"Which show then?" I asked. Laughter again, but was there more than one voice this time? Spinning around, I demanded, "Where are you? Whose with you?" Dizzy, I fell into our chocolate brown recliner, breathing hard.


The laughter subsided, "Are you okay?"


He definitely could see me. I rubbed my arms as chills assailed me. "Like you care!" I said.


"Just do this favor for me and I'll tell you everything."


"Who are you and what do you want?" I cried. Why am I doing this? I thought. I simply closed the phone, cutting the connection. I tumbled the phone over and over in my sweaty palms.


It sang at me again. I shrugged stetting the cell phone down and walked away. Pulling the drapes open, were there any unfamiliar vehicles out there?


Yes? Yes, there was a small red car. What was the make so I could tell 911? The plate number? There were two dark haired men sitting in the front seat. What were they hunched over? That man in the passenger seat looked familiar. Should I approach the vehicle? I debated.


My husband got out of the car smiling, waving a wad of cash at me. He slapped the roof of the car. It drove off. He was suppose to be golfing with a buddy.


As he entered the house, he said, "Good job, baby." He kissed me on the cheek.


I pulled away. "Someone's watching." I whispered.


He held up a small screen thingy. He walk to the computer desk in the attached dining room. He held up a tiny camera. "All gone! You did great. I won," he cleared his throat, "I mean, we won a thousand dollars."


"You bet on me?" I whispered, my voice gained strength, "You bet on me!" I reached over and grabbed the money. "Thanks, I can have fun shopping."


"But, baby. . . " He stopped at my glare. "Have fun."

 
The End
 
Leave feedback in the comments, please remember to be gentle. Don't forget to check out other free short stories available at Writer's Digest. They post the winning entry for your reading enjoyment.
 
Leann Holland

Quick Feet, Soft Hands -- Movie Review

Last week late one night flipping through the TV stations, I stopped on a short independent film, Quick Feet, Soft Hands on my local PBS station. I was intrigued with the TV description of a movie that was only half an hour. It fit the time frame I had available.

Quick Feet, Soft Hands is a movie about dreams. A young couple is following his dream of being a professional baseball player. He's currently playing minor league ball. He is struggling with his quality of life and the real cost of chasing rainbows.

I liken this short movie to a short story and it's very different from a typical Hollywood flick (a.k.a. a happy ending and rose colored glasses.) I enjoyed this movie's real life grit.

Leann Holland

Received A Self Address Stamped Envelope Today

Good news or bad from Woman's World magazine? Take a guess.

It's hard to get mad when the rejection comes with phrases like "This is cute." This last rejection started with "This is a sweet story." The next word sums up the problem "but." She liked this last rejected story so much that she wrote, "but you might successfully submit this elsewhere." But where? I asked myself. I searched for a couple of hours, not finding other publishers of such short stories.

Back to the drawing board(or more accurately the keyboard.) Think I am going to focus on my contest writing for a while.

Leann Holland

Woman World's Magazine

I have been writing short stories and submitting them to Woman's World Magazine. The stories are upbeat 800 words romances. I have received three rejections in the forty five days. I hesitate to share this information. But to be honest I am in good company. WW publishes only 52 stories a year. I belong to a WW yahoo group. We have 172 members, many are book authors, teachers of writing, editors. You get the picture very talented writers. If each of us only submitted one a year that still leaves 12o of us out in the cold, assuming that everyone who submits is part of our group. I have heard the statistic 1 in 12. Most authors write twelve stories to get one accepted.

6 rejections: 2 outstanding.

Little over half way. Tough odds. But I am going to stick to it. It took one writer three years. I'll keep you posted.

Leann Holland