Dead of night, and I climb through a
cottony mass of half-formed thoughts and half-dissolved dreams into
consciousness. Heat weighs heavily on me, and overhead the blades of the
ceiling fan revolve sluggishly. I shift slightly, and turn my head;
with a jolt, I realize that there is a stranger lying next to me.
I inch my way out of the tangled sheets and, setting my feet carefully
on the cool floor, make my way over to the doorway. A floorboard squeaks
and I quickly shift my weight and move closer to the wall. A sigh, and
then his slow, even breathing resumes. I sigh as well, and tiptoe out of
the room.
The caliginous
bedroom gives way to a living room awash in moonlight. I draw the
curtains and sink into the depths of an overstuffed chair. How did I
come to be here, and what do I do now? The answers, it would seem, are
all around me.
A trophy perdures on the bookcase,
shrouded with dust; textbooks as well, unthumbed as the day they stood on
the seller's shelf. A blue smock with a garish badge is tossed in a
corner, along with a black pair of shoes whose scuffed toes have been
covered by black magic marker. A man's jacket is thrown carelessly over
the back of a beat up sofa, which crouches beneath the picture of a
grinning young couple posed on a sugar white beach. All eerie in its vague familiarity.
I remember that I met him
last night after work. That there were awkward pauses and silences, and
that we spoke to each other oh so carefully. That we peeled away the
layers, and that in exploring each other we explored ourselves as well. A
dangerous thing, but necessary; unspoken becomes unnerving becomes
undoing.
Dawn breaks, and I wearily
make my way back. He is still sleeping, and I slide quietly into bed and
lie there, studying him. The slope of his shoulders, the fine golden
hairs on his arm, the nape of his neck, somehow delicate even on so
large a man. Strange, and yet comfortingly recognizable. He stirs,
stretches, and turns his head towards me; the morning light catches the
autumn flecks of green and gold and brown in his eyes. He looks at me
somberly for a moment.
“Happy Anniversary,” he says, and smiles.
In the full light of day, I smile as well.
“Happy Anniversary,” I reply.
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A blog containing short stories, flash fiction, poetry and photos as well as essays and creative non-fiction.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Stranger - #FridayFlash Fiction
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Haha that ending was priceless I definitely didn't expect it. Overall great #FridayFlash concept though. - @QuHarrison
ReplyDeleteThank you :-)
DeleteYou are such a good writer, Li. You say so much in a few paragraphs of well-chosen words. Very nice.
ReplyDeleteThanks Teresa :-) It takes a lot of editing.
DeleteGiven how self-serious and dramatic the first paragraph took itself, I never would have guessed we were headed to an an anniversary party. Very cute, Lisa!
ReplyDeleteSort of a play on how wakening in the middle of the night can be scary and confusing. (Combined with finding out that someone you've known for a long time - or been married to - is, in many ways, a stranger still.)
Deletegreat use of the word 'caliginous'! You keep the reader nicely off balance in this Lisa
ReplyDeletemarc x
A favorite word but difficult to fit in properly. :-)
DeleteDidn't realize they were married - good twist.
ReplyDeleteThank you Alex!
DeleteGreat story as always. Your writing is exquisite especially in how you convey so much with so few words.
ReplyDeleteHi Stu, and thank you! :-)
DeleteI thought she was with a stranger, and possibly in danger too, so the twist at the end really took me by surprise.
ReplyDeleteGlad I surprised you! Thanks for stopping by. :-)
DeleteYou continue to amaze with your flash fiction. Awesome! :)
ReplyDeleteThank you David!
DeleteI love this particularly in the idea of the concept that her husband is a stranger. But then they smile and the world is all right.
ReplyDeleteGlad you liked it! I think we're all strangers to one another, no matter how close, but you're right - morning and a smile often makes everything OK.
DeleteI like the way the character reflects on her memories. Great story!
ReplyDeleteThanks GE :-) I like to sit and look around my room sometimes and reflect on the objects and memories.
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ReplyDeleteLike the many angles that you can look at this story. It is the morning's light that gives the clarity
ReplyDeleteThank you, I was hoping that the readers could take away different things from the story.
DeleteHah didn't see the twist! ''unspoken becomes unnerving becomes undoing' is wonderful use of language.!
ReplyDeleteThank you, a great compliment! :-)
DeleteThis is really good and the way you wrote about the memories that the character reflected upon was good. A great twist at the end!
ReplyDeleteYou know posting on a blog is great and all but wouldn't it be better if you posted it on an online site that helps you start to market your story and build up an audience? Just a suggestion but try and sign up to ReadWave if you are interested! Just check the site out when you have the time: http://readwave.com
Thank you for stopping by! I'll check out ReadWave.
ReplyDeleteIf only we could always have this sense of freshness and newness and strangeness with our loved ones so that we can be so much more observant. I'd love to have that mindfulness all the time, seeing my environment and my husband in all the detail as in your piece. =)
ReplyDelete