Contest Ends Friday July 13th
It Worked For Me, oil on masonite, 8"x10"
The story you write should be a "Flash Fiction" which is a complete story in one thousand or fewer words.
The story you write should be a "Flash Fiction" which is a complete story in one thousand or fewer words. Please post the story in the comment section, you will have to provide your name and an email address in order to be qualified to win or you can e-mail me at kmencher@ohlone.edu with your info.
There is a problem with how many characters can post (only about 4,000) so if you cannot post it.
E-mail it to me at kmencher@ohlone.edu
_______________________________________________
This came in by Patrick Nelson
http://patricknelsonsstories.blogspot.com/
(it's a little intense!):
The story you write should be a "Flash Fiction" which is a complete story in one thousand or fewer words. Please post the story in the comment section, you will have to provide your name and an email address in order to be qualified to win or you can e-mail me at kmencher@ohlone.edu with your info.
There is a problem with how many characters can post (only about 4,000) so if you cannot post it.
E-mail it to me at kmencher@ohlone.edu
_______________________________________________
IT WORKED FOR ME
Stephen D. Rogers
http://www.StephenDRogers.com
"You said no one would get hurt. You said he'd buy the land if I assured him the deal was aboveboard, and that
would be that."
"I said a lot of things." She stood naked at the window of the rented room, staring out at the horizon, raking
her fingers through her long, dark hair.
"Why did you have to shoot him?" He couldn't bear to look at her, knowing what she'd done, knowing what he
might do.
"He was talking about selling the land, turning over the property to make a quick profit. He wouldn't hold
onto the deed long enough for me to leave town."
"Leave town? You never said you were leaving town." And then he turned to face her, only she still looked
away.
"I never said a lot of things."
"I can't go with you." His job at the bank. His wife and children. The house with the mortgage he couldn't
afford, although she might have taken care of that problem, assuming she hadn't changed her mind about
splitting the money.
Assuming she'd ever meant to.
"I got what I wanted, and you got what you wanted, the thrill of a conquest, the thrill of taking a mark. Now
when you sit behind your desk at the bank, watching the hands of the clock go around, you'll have memories to
help you through the long hours."
"You can't just leave." This had been her plan all along, to use him, ruin him.
"You'll never see me again." She stretched. "It's better this way."
He came up behind her. Reached for her throat. Squeezed with what little strength he had left.
_________________________________________________ http://www.StephenDRogers.com
"You said no one would get hurt. You said he'd buy the land if I assured him the deal was aboveboard, and that
would be that."
"I said a lot of things." She stood naked at the window of the rented room, staring out at the horizon, raking
her fingers through her long, dark hair.
"Why did you have to shoot him?" He couldn't bear to look at her, knowing what she'd done, knowing what he
might do.
"He was talking about selling the land, turning over the property to make a quick profit. He wouldn't hold
onto the deed long enough for me to leave town."
"Leave town? You never said you were leaving town." And then he turned to face her, only she still looked
away.
"I never said a lot of things."
"I can't go with you." His job at the bank. His wife and children. The house with the mortgage he couldn't
afford, although she might have taken care of that problem, assuming she hadn't changed her mind about
splitting the money.
Assuming she'd ever meant to.
"I got what I wanted, and you got what you wanted, the thrill of a conquest, the thrill of taking a mark. Now
when you sit behind your desk at the bank, watching the hands of the clock go around, you'll have memories to
help you through the long hours."
"You can't just leave." This had been her plan all along, to use him, ruin him.
"You'll never see me again." She stretched. "It's better this way."
He came up behind her. Reached for her throat. Squeezed with what little strength he had left.
This came in by Patrick Nelson
http://patricknelsonsstories.blogspot.com/
(it's a little intense!):
Free One
"You know you're just a fucking
cunt, right?" he said as coldly as he could muster. In his mind it was
supposed to come out all Daniel Craig, with the elegant, crisp, British
downward curve at the end of the statement. Like the abrupt, but graceful
rounding down of a Rolls Royce hood.
It really came out more like Howdy
Doody on Red Bull: high pitched, nasally and as spasmodic as a pimply
teenager's first orgasm; Jagged, jiggly and full of nothing but petulant
poison. He had mostly hoped for the word "cunt" to be like a barrage
of tiny blades slicing mercilessly through the nearly opaque shower curtain,
flaying away her hide and leaving her heart beating at the bottom of the soapy
tub. Instead the use of the word just slapped limply and impotently and finally
dribbled down the side to the tile.
The word and the bile that had been
loaded down the barrel behind it just made her smile--which she knew he
couldn't see, but he could surely feel. She let her silence stretch out a
little longer than was kind, but she wasn't done teaching him his lesson. She
hoped he wasn't into the torture because that would take the fun out of it on
her end. She lathered herself with the expensive body wash. She used much more
than was necessary knowing he would simmer at the cost and waste. He paid a
high price for the stuff and now for the little skank she caught him with last
week. She could see him outlined through the milky veil of the thin curtain. He
was leaning with his butt on the sink. She could make out his thin, stylish tie
and his snarled lips. She slowly rinsed the foam from her belly and then cupped
the water and sloughed it into her pubic area. She stood even closer now so as
to give him a hint to the puzzle he would never again get to try and solve.
He watched and imagined her cleaning
away that other man's semen from her curly hairs. He bristled knowing she was
working him, "I know you were with him! I saw you together at the
hotel..."
Another smile and fat slap of silence.
"You had to fuck that douchebag
Pembroke just to get back at me, didn't you?" He spat, though he still
traced her exquisite form through the plastic. "You knew out of all my
friends, he would be the incompetent suck-up that would bother me the
most."
She finally deigned to reply, "If
you saw us, why didn't you stop us?" She turned off the shower and pulled
back the curtain sharply, but elegantly. "If you're such a badass and sexy
king of men--if you've got such big balls--why didn't you walk up and kick his
sniveling little ass?"
She didn't bother to cover herself.
She had no shame to hide. If anything, she wanted to remember her this way in
all her glistening glory as the last time he ever saw her.
"Why didn't you take me away from
him right there in the lobby?" She said. The rapid movement of her lips
flicked water into his face. He winced and took it.
"You're the fucking cunt."
When she said this, it had the elegant but forceful impact his attempt lacked.
She saw him almost cower and pout at
having been called out. She had pushed and he had caved. He hunched slightly
and began to tear up. He knew he had gone too far this time. He knew when she
took another man to bed, that he never stood a chance of getting her back.
She stepped out of the shower and came
close to him. He mistook the movement for some kind of intimacy, a tender
embrace for making him almost weep. Almost.
He reached out to her and she stepped
back as if supremely insulted and disgusted. She looked at him like he must
have just lost his mind. She chuckled mockingly, rolled her eyes dramatically
and pulled a large, perfect white towel from the rack beyond him and began
drying herself off.
He gave her room by backing into the
doorway and then the narrow hall.
She didn't
even look up at him as she wrapped herself from his gaze forever.
"Listen, honey," he began to
grasp at his life as it tumbled to the sides, "I know how I hurt
you--"
"Yeah, you do now," she shot
back quickly but with less venom than before. "Since we got this out of
the way, why the fuck don't you get out now? You can come get the rest of your
shit when I'm not here. Ill tell the doorman to let you in, but for now, leave
your keys by the door and don't forget to take your tiny little balls with
you--they're in my purse by the door..."
With that, she slammed the heavy
bathroom door in his face. He heard the lock click.
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