Category: Fiction

last supper fiction by Greta Stone

Last Supper

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— 272 word micro fiction —

“Here. One bite. I know you’re hungry,” he said, touching the warm meat to my mouth.

The tantalizing aroma hit me square in the nose. 

With a wiggle, he pressed it harder against my lips. My stomach growled, betraying me. He grinned, raising a brow. I watched carefully for his next move.

In my peripheral, the meat and the fork and the hand holding it floated away and, with a clink, rested on his plate. In the flicker of the candlelight, he stared at it for a moment, pensive. I might have thought he was finally growing tired but a flare of his nostrils told me otherwise. He wasn’t done yet. 

He smoothed his brow and looked up at me, his gaze then tracing down my bare body and back up. “I’m trying to help you.” He leaned closer and wiped juice and gravy off my lip with his thumb. 

I shuddered at his touch and drew away, thonking my head on the post against my back.  

“Stop trying to fight it. You’re only hurting yourself.” He stroked my face, his open palm filling my head with the smell of blood, concrete, and mildew. I winced as his fingers brushed a flaring bruise under my cheekbone. 

“Shh. It won’t be much longer now.”

My eyes watered as panic rose up in my chest. I yanked my wrists against the rope, which refused to give.

“Tsk tsk tsk.” He raised the fork to his mouth and slid the meat off with his teeth. Chewing, he continued. “When will you learn to behave, Amber?”

I swallowed hard. My name wasn’t Amber, but he insisted.

What's fair is fair fiction by Greta Stone

What’s Fair Is Fair

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Preface

This was my round 2 entry for the NYC Midnight Flash Fiction contest where I was given a genre, setting, and item to include in a story of 1000 words maximum. I had 48 hours to complete this and made no edits before posting here. I placed 5th of 30 in my group which earned me 11 points. My total score tied me with 2 other people for the final spot to move on to the next round. The tie breaker rule was not in my favor so this was the end for me. See judges remarks at the end. Enjoy.

{996 words}

Assignment
Genre: romantic comedy
Location: science fair
Item to include: defibrillator

Summary: Olivia’s only goal in the state science fair is to prove anything can be proven.

Rain poured down so heavily Olivia couldn’t see a thing through the back window of her parents’ car. Her father pulled up to the curb outside Quinnipiac University’s Science Fair with twenty minutes to spare for check-in.

“Good luck!” her mom yelled over the pounding rain as her dad checked the rear view for traffic.

Of course they weren’t going to go in with her. She was on her own to convince the people of Connecticut to ban something that was vital to life with nothing more than the truth presented in an official manner. “Thanks,” Olivia said under her breath.

She straightened the garbage bag around her folded presentation, delivering a whiff of plastic to her. Protect herself or protect the project? That was the question. With a sigh, she shoved the car door open and stepped out, propping the project over her head.

Cool rain splashed on hot pavement, filling the air with the smell of baked earth and tar. Olivia made a run for cover, kicking up water as she stomped through puddles. She yanked on the door handle and stepped inside, then stopped quick to shake herself dry.

A body plowed into her from behind, tossing her project to the floor, then her on top of it. A loud crash followed, echoing through the foyer like splintered glass.

She turned to find Luke Reilly, a jock from her school, rush to collect the parts of a broken defibrillator.

“I’m so sorry,” Olivia said, stretching to retrieve a piece of broken plastic.

“It’s fine,” he said shortly, taking the piece from her. His t-shirt, dark with rain across his broad shoulders, clung to him.

She’d spent more than a few afternoons gawking at him from the bleachers with her friends. He was pretty but no way he had the brain for a state science fair. What was he doing here?

“You all right?” he asked, extending a hand.

“It’s coming down in buckets out there,” she said stupidly. She placed her hand in his and the room spun as he swept her to her feet. Didn’t knights in shining armor usually sweep you off your feet?

“Yes, it is.” With a glance at her project on the floor, he said, “Good luck,” and disappeared through the second set of doors.

Speechless, Olivia watched him go. Maybe someone had fainted from nerves and, as a volunteer EMT, he was rushing to resuscitate them. You’re the only one who faints from nerves, Olivia, she reminded herself, and pulled it together.

Three hours later, the gymnasium’s ecosystem mimicked global warming and the volume of chatter had risen at least 20 decibels. Judges had made their rounds. Now parents, family, and friends had filled the room to max capacity.

While a young couple signed Olivia’s petition to ban dihydrogen monoxide, she caught a glimpse of Luke through the crowd. He stood beside a contraption across the aisle a few booths down, pieces of the defibrillator duct taped to it.

She winced. Of course she ruined his project. How else would she win a guy over?

“Good luck with the petition,” the couple said cheerfully, drawing her attention back to her own project and the list of names and email addresses.

Olivia produced a large smile for them, her thoughts drifting to her hand in Luke’s as he lifted her effortlessly to her feet. Too bad his name wasn’t on her list. What any girl wouldn’t give to have a direct line to the phone in his back pocket.

Turning to look for her next victim, she came face to face with Luke a foot away, arms crossed and scowling as he studied her presentation. “I thought your project was supposed to be on human behavior.”

Olivia’s cheeks warmed. The only way he’d know that is if he looked her up in the program. Her heart drummed against her ribs. “It is.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “It looks like a petition to ban dihydrogen monoxide.”

The scientific words from his lips sounded like chocolate drizzled over strawberries. “It is,” she repeated like an idiot, still gawking. “I’m sorry if I ruined your project.”

“I made it work.” He shrugged one shoulder. “It was meant to be more of a monkey wrench than anything else.”

“Mm hm.” She blinked up at him, finding it hard to stay focused on what he was saying.

“So what’s your beef with dihydrogen monoxide?”

Heat rushed up her neck and face at the shift of attention back to her. Turning away to hide her blazing skin, she grabbed her petition off the table and pulled into character. “It can cause severe burns and that’s just the beginning. It’s responsible for land erosion and can even be fatal if inhaled,” she rambled, ignoring his smirk and the way he kept glancing down at her mouth.

He had to know what dihydrogen monoxide was. She hadn’t expected to persuade her fellow scientists. Only the gullible public who would believe any report that looked half as official as hers. “You know, the latest studies show the Connecticut River is contaminated by it.”

“Is that so?”

Was it just her or had they shared a conspirator’s look? She was convinced he was in on it until a long moment passed without a word.

“I always thought you were just a geek,” he said. “But now I see there might be more to you.”

Her stomach fluttered between the insult and compliment, her mind whirling to latch onto anything intelligent to say. “I always thought you were just a jock, but now I see there might be more to you too.”

A grin spread wide across his face. “Touche. Where do I sign?”

She watched, unbelieving, as he wrote “Luke Reilly, lreilly@gmail.com” then added in the margin “860-563-8374.”

“Thank you,” she said, floating.

“You’re welcome. And be careful on your way out tonight. I hear dihydrogen monoxide is falling from the sky in buckets.”

WHAT THE JUDGES LIKED ABOUT YOUR STORY

{Judge #1611} This is an engaging, humorous project with great attention to pacing and well-developed characters. Some excellent details to ground readers in the narrative.
{Judge #1651} I enjoyed the “water” joke as a way to vet potential dates. The ending was fun and well-earned.
{Judge #1589} Nice how you give a sense of smell, as well as sight (“a whiff of plastic.”) Cute ending. This sentence feels off. She’s focused on a science project, gets knocked down by the jock, and then begins fantasizing he is a knight in shining armor? “. Didn’t knights in shining armor usually sweep you off your feet?”

WHAT THE JUDGES FEEL NEEDS WORK

{Judge #1611} I wasn’t quite sure what Luke’s project was. When he said it was a “money wrench” did he mean something to disrupt the science fair? I wanted a bit more. Also, I think the story warrants a stronger title.
{Judge #1651} It’s unclear why Olivia likes Luke in the beginning (just looks?), especially after he doesn’t try to help her pick up her own project that fell on the floor. You set up Luke as a jock, not a scientist, so why would Olivia expect him to know the dihydrogen monoxide joke? Overall, I’d make it more clear in the end how Olivia feels/reacts once she thinks he doesn’t get the “water” joke, and then again how her feelings change when she realizes that he understands her.
{Judge #1589} Give us a bit more of a set up. Who is in the car? Where are they going? Why? What is Olivia concerned about? What is her goal for the day? The following is a long sentence: “She was on her own to convince the people of Connecticut to ban something that was vital to life with nothing more than the truth presented in an official manner.” Try breaking it up. Let us in on the conspiracy. Is she out deceiving the public to see how many people sign? Tell more.

Your comments and suggestions, as always, are greatly appreciated.

Thank you for reading!

The Chase flash fiction by Greta Stone

The Chase

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Preface

This was my round 1 entry for the NYC Midnight Flash Fiction contest where I was given a genre, setting, and item to include in a story of 1000 words maximum. I had 48 hours to complete this and made no edits before posting here. I placed 9th of 30 in my group which earned me 7 points. See judges remarks at the end. Enjoy.

{972 words}

Assignment
Genre: suspense
Location: funeral home
Item to include: garden hose

Summary: A woman on the run uses a funeral home to hide out. She must make perfect split decisions to avoid captivity and death.

The last time I saw him, he was on my heels, scaling the chain link fence I had just cleared. The clink and clatter faded behind me as the glow of flashlight danced around my feet. Getting caught was not an option or I faced captivity and death. Heartbeat in overdrive, I ran without looking back at him. The thick underbrush closed around me, blanketing me in complete darkness.

I shoved through the twigs and saplings, stirring the carpet of leaves with a shooshing that was way too loud. If he was behind me, I couldn’t tell. I exited the woods at the back of a white brick funeral home on a suburban street. Evening dew clung to the hem of my jeans as I crossed the open yard. At the front of the building, I paused to catch my breath and scan the area.

Cookie-cutter houses stood close together, each with a concrete stoop and short driveway. The glow of streetlights dotted the road. The smell of pavement, still cooking from the day’s heat, wafted through the air. I was alone. Shuddering, I glanced over my shoulder at the funeral home door. Alone except for the dead.

As if to defy me, the crickets spoke up. It didn’t matter. They couldn’t help me. Neither could the dead.

I curled my hands around the hard plastic in my hoodie pocket. Still there. At least I hadn’t lost it in the chase. I walked to the corner of the building to check the treeline. No one. Would he find me? Was I safe?

Legs aching for rest, I took a seat on the front steps. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He promised he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me. He lied. Unsettled, I soon wandered to the edge of the street as if I might find an answer in one direction or the other.

A set of headlights swiped over the front of a house across the street. A car turned onto the road.

They’d found me.

I doubled back, my sneakers padding on the soft pavement as the headlights creeped closer. If I could get to the backyard, to the woods, I could hide out there.

My own shadow stretched out before me. I made a sharp turn at the corner of the funeral home and realized the treeline was too far away. I’d never make it. Clearing a row of low bushes, I landed hard against the concrete foundation. Wood chips flipped away in protest. I slid down, panting, inhaling the scent of cedar and baked earth.

I had to be still despite my racing heartbeat. If they found me, this would be my end. There would be no escape.

A spider skittered over the back of my hand. I had to fight not to scream and flick it away. There was no time for phobias right now.

Through the branches, headlights swept across the lawn and up the side of the white brick wall above my head. I ducked lower, all but kissing the earth beneath me. The car’s tires purred over the freshly paved funeral home driveway as they pulled around the corner and parked. Engine running, a door opened and shut. Footsteps. Coming toward me or moving away, I couldn’t tell. But they’d find me eventually. I needed to move.

I rolled onto one protesting knee and tucked a foot beneath me. Crouching, I slid one hand along the rough foundation as a guide. I tiptoed along, stepping over a coiled up garden hose and past a blackened basement window where the dead rested. At the rear corner of the building, I stood and ran.

Not one step out and I found myself slammed back against a hard chest, a large hand covering my mouth. Panic hit. I needed to scream, but there was no air. I needed air! Kicking at the leg behind me, I flailed in his strong arms.

“Shhh,” the whisper hit my ear, warm against my already damp skin, escalating my panic. “It’s me.”

I froze to process the information. Graham. He was here! They hadn’t caught him at the fence, and somehow he found his way back to me. I exhaled a breath I didn’t know I had in me and slumped against him with relief.

He peeled his hand off my mouth, turned me by my shoulders, and wrapped me in his arms. His t-shirt damp against my cheek, he smelled of sweat and spice. Kissing the top of my head then holding me at arm’s length, he whispered, “They’re in the side yard behind me, making their way around. We need to make a run for it but toward the front.” He gestured in the opposite direction I’d planned to run.

My face tingled at the thought of my near mishap.

“We’re almost clear,” he said. “You got this.”

I nodded, unconvinced. Whatever happened now though, we were in it together.

Grabbing my hand, he pushed through the bushes and ran. Blood screamed through my ears as we crossed the open lawn. Bright white spotlights blasted the building. Blinking blue and red lights flashed a warning, one we disregarded as we dashed across the street and cut through backyards. Swing sets and sandboxes glowed in the moonlight, guiding our way home.

Panting and winded, we collapsed onto the floor of our apartment, saying nothing as we stared at the ceiling to catch our breaths. The sounds of our own panting in the otherwise silent room soon sent us into a fit of laughter. I rolled, tossing my leg over his and wrapping my arm tight over his chest.

He rubbed my back and pulled me closer. “You’ve got the code, right?”

I slid my hand into my pocket and pulled the flash drive out with a grin. “Yup.”

WHAT THE JUDGES LIKED ABOUT YOUR STORY

{Judge #1702}  This story has some really strong thriller aspects, such as the action being nonstop. The pacing is very fast. 
{Judge # 1812}  The descriptions of the setting make excellent use of the senses to draw the reader into the story and experience the sites, sounds, smells and feel of the surrounding environment. The story begins with a good hook and gets right into the action. A good resolution to tie up the story at the end.
{Judge # 1858}  You definitely had me on the edge of my seat as I hoped the narrator would make it out of the situation. And then once she found Graham, I was hoping that they would both make it to safety. You’ve done a great job of creating characters that I was rooting for! I also love this line: “Swing sets and sandboxes glowed in the moonlight, guiding our way home.” 

WHAT THE JUDGES FEEL NEEDS WORK

{Judge # 1702}  This story feels more like a thriller than a suspense story. Suspense is usually a slow unfolding of events where the character slowly realizes exactly how much danger they’re in. In this story, people are in danger from the get-go, from start to finish. And this story is really action driven. As it’s currently written, I don’t think this story quite fits the bill for a suspense tale. 
{Judge #1812}  The synopsis tells us that the main character is a woman however readers won’t know whether she is a man or woman. Try to work in a visual understanding of her character and provide a name. It is much easier for readers to connect with a character when they have a name and a visual to go by. To further improve this story, provide a few details about the background story: who is chasing this couple and what will happen to them if they are caught? Turn the pursuers into stronger villains by making them more threatening. This will increase the stakes as well as heighten concern for the couple’s safety. 
{Judge #1858}  I think that you should start your story with the third paragraph, “Cookie-cutter houses…”. It feels like a much tighter beginning, and you get your readers to the “Alone except for the dead” line a lot quicker. I think it ups the suspense factor even more. Any critical information that is in those first two paragraphs could be included later in the story if necessary.

Your comments and suggestions, as always, are greatly appreciated.

Thank you for reading!

fiction by Greta Stone-page-001

The Other Woman

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Preface

I wrote this in preparation for the NYC Midnight Flash Fiction contest coming up where I’ll be given a genre, setting, and item to include in a story of 1000 words maximum. My hubby and I registered, then realized the first round is while we’re on vacation. Oy.
We thought some practice might help.
I grabbed a random prompt from their examples and completed this in 48 hours.
(See prompt details at the end.) Enjoy.

{999 words}

Jennifer tapped her press-on fingernails against the thick, engraved glass award on the table in front of her. She should have splurged on a real manicure. It wasn’t like she couldn’t afford it. Plus it was an important night—for more than the awards. Tonight she was putting her foot down. Tonight she was claiming what was hers.

That was if the intolerable ceremony would ever end. As a middle-aged woman with shoulder-length brittle hair droned on at the podium, Jennifer poked through her purse for a stick of gum, anything for a distraction. She shoved aside a tampon she’d been expecting to need all week and dug deeper. No gum. Sighing, she pulled out her phone. How many more awards could there be? How long had she been glued to her chair?

The time flashed on her phone’s lock screen, answering her. 9:43.

She uncrossed and crossed her stockinged legs, eying the empty chair beside her with displeasure. Where the hell was Matthew? He’d disappeared somewhere between the Building of the Year Award and the lemon torte, about ten minutes after Amanda excused herself to use the restroom. He’d missed Jennifer’s reception speech and the nugget of gratitude she’d laced into it for him.

“And the endless hours of support from the only man who can tolerate my insanity,” she’d said, crestfallen as she scoured the crowd, hoping to find Matthew observing from the outskirts.

He wasn’t. They were both still gone. Jennifer shoved the award away and sat back, arms crossed. What good was the damn thing if she couldn’t keep Matthew by her side?

Amanda’s cinched waist and delicate thighs caught Jennifer’s eye as she squeezed through the congested room of aged men with large bellies. No wonder Matthew’s eyes lingered on her whenever she was present. She was an art form in human flesh.

Three dress sizes larger, Jennifer couldn’t compete in that department. But she was a goddamn accomplished architect with her own office of 13 employees. She’d climbed Mt. Washington. She’d mastered Boeuf Bourguignon in only three tries. She could bring a man to his knees in a matter of minutes. What did Amanda have other than a slender figure?

Amanda slipped into her seat and placed a French-manicured hand over her flat belly. Leaning closer with a cordial smile, she whispered, “I’m so sorry I missed your award, Jennifer. I wasn’t feeling well.”

I bet you weren’t. Jennifer delivered a smile in return. “Don’t worry about it.” I’m about to show you what it’s like to not feel well.

“May I see it?” Amanda asked, extending her delicate hand, palm up.

Jennifer obliged, dropping the heavy award into Amanda’s hand and reveling in the woman’s struggle to hold onto it. She recovered and held it up for inspection.

“Excellence In Design? That was for the Nelsonville Commons project, right?” Amanda raised her pencil thin eyebrows in impressed shock. “Matthew must be so proud of you.”

Jennifer grinned. “Yes, he is.”

A round of applause broke out, drawing their attention to the podium where the same woman delivered her closing comments. Thank God the night was almost over. There was only one more thing to do.

Jennifer snatched the award back in preparation of the battle she was about to fight. You don’t get to have this. And you don’t get Matthew either.

The room erupted into chatter, hand shakes, and congratulations. Jennifer pushed through the suit- and gown-clad crowd in search of Matthew. She needed to find him. She needed to take him by the hand and lead him home. She needed to remind him why she deserved him.

She searched the foyer and the hall and the front room and the cocktail bar. No Matthew.

Resigned to waiting on him, she headed back into the main banquet hall. With a curse under her breath, she located Amanda, holding her own in a conversation with four of the five lead architects of her firm. Amanda had grown practiced at mingling above her stature. But this wasn’t her place. It was time she learned her lesson.

Smiling affably, Jennifer stepped into the circle beside Amanda. Matthew would come here eventually. She knew that much. All she had to do was wait.

“Congratulations, Jennifer,” Robert said in his deep, gravelly voice. “You deserved that award. Your work has improved by leaps and bounds this year.”

“Thank you. I had an amazing mentor.” Despite herself, Jennifer’s face warmed.

Robert’s gaze shifted over Jennifer’s shoulder. “Speak of the devil!”

The two women turned, opening the circle for Matthew to join.

Yes, speak of the devil.

“Congratulations to you, Matthew.” Richard slapped his hand into Matthew’s, giving a firm shake. “You’ve made the company proud. We knew you would.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Matthew said.

A proud smile spread on his face, creating all the laugh lines Jennifer loved to trace with her fingertip. He hooked a finger into the knot of his tie and loosened it, sending her into a reverie of provocative moments.

“I’m privileged to work with some amazing people.” Matthew gifted Jennifer a proud smile.

His attention struck her right in the chest, leaving her breathless and lightweight. Yes, he loved her, and was not afraid to show it. Now was the time to take her stand.

“Let’s get you home, baby,” he said, turning his back on Jennifer and slipping his arm around Amanda’s waist, pressing his lips to her temple. “I pulled the car around. It’s waiting out front.”

Amanda breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, honey. Hopefully, we’ll make it home before another wave of nausea hits.”

“Oh, right!” Robert bellowed. He squeezed Matthew’s shoulder, adding, “Congratulations. You’re going to make a great dad.”

“Yes, he is.” Amanda cooed up at him, pressed close with a hand on his chest.

“Thank you,” Matthew said. “Have a good night, everyone.” He waved over his shoulder, glancing around the circle, averting Jennifer’s dumbstruck expression, and ushering his wife to the door.

The prompt was:
genre – drama
setting – awards banquet
item to include – press-on fingernails

Your comments and suggestions, as always, are greatly appreciated.

Thank you for reading!

BDSM short fiction

White

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Preface

If you’ve been following me at all, you know the sexy nature of my poetry. Here, I share (for the first time) a very short story of the same nature. Enjoy.

{996 words}

I sat in a lukewarm bath, bored and irritated. He’d texted me an hour earlier.

Him:
Run a hot bath and soak. Use a cinnamon & ginger bath bomb. Drink one glass of pinot noir. Await further instructions.

There was little I loathed more than confining myself to an uncomfortable, hard bin full of rapidly cooling water which made it impossible to either read a book (lest the pages curl with humidity) or watch my favorite show (lest the tablet fall into said water and it die.)

But I did it. For him.

When my phone buzzed on the tile floor, I lifted one dripping, wrinkly hand out of the murky, suds-free water and reached for a towel. 

Him:
Be downstairs in 30 minutes. Dress up. 3” heels or higher. No panties. Put your hair up.
Sit in the exact center of the white sofa in the lobby, ankles crossed, left over right.
I will arrive between 8:12 and 8:36.
You will wait there in that position.
You will be alone on the sofa.

Alone on the sofa? All of his instructions were in my control except for that. How the hell–

Him:
Do you have any questions?

I’d find a way.

Me:
No, Sir.

Him:
If you fail to fulfill my request, you’ll not be able to walk for a week.

My heart raced at the threat and promise. He’d done it before. And while a part of me longed for his fury, my ass, numb from the hard bottom of the tub, did not.

Me:
Yes, Sir.

Exactly 30 minutes later, I took my place in the center of the stretched white sofa in the ornate yet modern lobby. Room for two or three people stretched on each side of me. With only a few other people milling about, I took a refreshing breath. Maybe I wouldn’t have to fight anyone  off after all.

Sitting, I tugged the hem of my pencil skirt down just over the curve of my knees, crossed my 3” t-strap heels at the ankle, left over right, and tucked a wisp of hair behind my ear.

Twenty minutes later, at 7:52, the lobby began to fill up with couples in gowns and black bow ties. Nervous, I fiddled with my fingers in my lap. He wasn’t even due for at least another 15 minutes. What was his plan? And why were there so many people around?

At 8:07 a silver-haired man with a hefty girth sat beside me. The woman with him, thin and delicate, sat, too.

“Hello,” the man said with a gravelly voice and a nod.

“Hi.” I smiled but inside my stomach whipped up into a whirl. How would I get rid of them? I couldn’t be rude. I had to act quickly or they might get settled and stay.

“I’m so sorry but I’m saving these seats for a friend.”

The man scowled at me.

“…who has trouble walking the full distance from the door to the ballroom.” What the hell was I even saying? I wasn’t sure. But the man and woman stood and walked away.

The lobby was now packed. Fifty…or a hundred people stood about, waiting for something. Some balanced the thin stem of a wine glass between their fingers. Some held napkins with fancy hors d’oeuvres, though I could see neither a bar nor trays of food over the height of the crowd around me.

At 8:21 a beautiful young woman in a sparkling purple gown sat beside me.

“Hello!” 

She was too enthusiastic. Too excited. What did she know that I didn’t?

“Are you here alone, too?,” she said. “Thank God! We can stick together.”

Where were “we”? What was she talking about?

“I’m actually waiting for someone,” I said, wracking my brain for a way to get rid of her before he showed up. My ass throbbed in warning of my promised punishment.

Her shoulders sunk. “Oh. I guess I’m the only one then. I should have known better than to come to a wedding without a date.”

Wedding caught me mid-swallow, sending me into a coughing fit. He wouldn’t. We’re not… I sucked fruitlessly at the air, unable to catch my breath, sputtering and coughing.

We’d never been in public together. Didn’t know any of the same people. Avoided all chances of pictures in order to prolong our privacy and the nature of our relationship.

The woman stared wide-eyed at me as my choking began to catch the attention of nearby onlookers.

It hit me then that I could use this to get rid of her. I pointed at my throat and exaggerated another cough. “Water,” I whispered.

Her brows shot up and she stood quickly. “Oh! Yes. I’ll be right back.”

She disappeared through the crowd, parting it in her wake as I regained control of myself. With one last swallow, I raised my head, squared my shoulders, and caught his eye through the maze of people between us.

He paused, took note of the empty sofa beside me, and pulled half his mouth into a smile. Recovering himself, he strode straight toward me, wedding guests flowing out of his way as if there were some invisible force moving them.

When he reached me, he held out his hand, smiling. “Miss Adesso.”

I placed my hand in his and stood. “Mr. Burke.”

Tucking my arm under his and wrapping my hand around his forearm, he leaned in to kiss my ear, inhaling. “I could eat you right here.”

My neck and face flushed hot. Could everyone tell I was bare beneath my skirt?

He grinned as I squirmed.

“What are we doing here?” I asked.

“We’re going to a wedding.”

My eyes shot open. “Whose?”

“Don’t know. We’re crashing.” He leaned in to whisper. “And you’re going to come before we leave tonight.”

I’ve shared this story in full as it was originally written. If you’re interested in seeing more of Miss Adesso and Mr. Burke’s night, please persuade me to write it by commenting below. ~___^

Thank you for reading!

Me and a Gun: Fiction & Sexual Abuse Discussion*

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The fiction piece below contains triggers.
Skip to discussion if you’d like to chat.

me and a gun fiction sexual abuse discussion Greta Stone

Me and a Gun

[Flash fiction]

The cold metal barrel pressed to the back of my neck. Pinned to the hood of a stranger’s car at the back of the mall parking lot, I struggled to breathe. Snot smeared from my nose and tears made the skin at my temple stick to the aluminum surface beneath me. My hair lay sprawled and tangled over my face, masking the real world on the other side—the world in bitter, cold, November darkness. My most intimate parts bare to the night, I squeezed my eyes shut tight. See no evil. See. no. evil.

Pressure from the barrel let up, but I stayed put as the rip of his zipper warned me of what would come next. The back of his hand brushed my bare thigh as he freed himself. I winced. It was coming, and it was going to be horrifying.

Dissociate, my mind told me. So I tried.

Somewhere in the distance beyond the van blocking us from view, two women chatted, the thud of car doors, an engine starting. I focused on those details. I focused on anything but him, my heart pounding so fiercely it drummed a rapid rhythm in my ears.

The bright parking lot lights, the alarm button on my car remote, the key I had lodged against the palm of my hand were all futile against his skillful attack. I should have run when he stepped up with a smile, when I politely smiled back while my instincts called Danger!, when I told myself not to overreact, when I didn’t want to be labeled a bitch.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I caved to compassion and lent him my phone, carelessly surrendering my wrist. With one slick twist, he flipped my fate.

The barrel returned to my neck now, heavier, colder from the night air.

My shoulders ached, arms numb as the zip-tie on my wrists chafed the skin beneath. He used his hips to jam me against the car. At the icy collision of bare thigh to metal, I recoiled. The gun barrel dug deeper into the soft flesh at the base of my skull, scolding me. I held still, obeying its command.

A brush, a breeze, a hard button pressed to my soft flesh. My insides burned as he ripped through me. I opened my mouth to scream but bit the hair that fell in instead. I willed him away, praying for a savior, a miraculous rising of the sun, a heart attack…for him or me, didn’t matter.

My thoughts stuttered, running off far, far away then ripping back to the present with every thrust of his hips. I must survive this. But why? Was it worth surviving?

My mind grew tired of running so it stayed right there with his heavy panting, the clink of my hoodie zipper, and the eery silence beyond our horrid bubble until he released himself inside of me, leaving a stain only I would see. Forever.

Let’s Discuss

Why would I write something so dark and horrid? Three reasons.

  1. I am a sexual abuse victim. I have endured multiple sexual abuse situations. I choose not to be loud about it, but it is an important topic to me.
  2. I’ve lived with depression for as long as I can remember, and it wasn’t until I started channeling the darkness into writing that I could function well in everyday life.
  3. Society sends us mixed messages when it comes to personal safety. This is the point I want to discuss today.

ground rules

There are two sides to every incident and every incident could play out in one of two ways. Let’s use the example from the story above. First, I need to clarify a few things.

Although it’s not explicitly stated in the story above, we’re going to assume that the victim is female. Yes, all of it could happen in reverse or with same sex or with any kind of person that lives. But this is the scenario I relate to. So this is what I’m writing.

For the sake of simplification (because this is going to get kind of complicated), I’m going to name the man from the story Lucas and the woman  Olivia. (2016’s top two names, although different sources quote different names.)

Okay. Still with me?

the real question Cell phone

So, Lucas approaches Olivia, asking for help. “My car died and my wife has my phone.”  *points over shoulder toward mall* “May I borrow yours to call someone?”

Olivia can do one of two things:

  1. Help Lucas by lending him her phone.
  2. Deny help and get away as fast as possible.

What does society expect Olivia to do?

That’s a good question.

“Baby, you don’t go around accusing innocent people.” ~Jake Houseman, Dirty Dancing

two-faced

It all depends on how the incident turns out. If Lucas is not a criminal, society will praise Olivia for helping (“What a kind and giving person you are!”) and shun her for denying help (“Don’t be such a bitch.”) If Lucas is a criminal, society will shun Olivia for helping (“Are you stupid? What were you thinking? You were asking for it.”) and praise her for running (“That was some quick thinking on your part. Saved your life!”)

Don't judge a person by appearanceThe problem is, Olivia  has no way of knowing if Lucas is a criminal or not when he approaches. The best attackers make themselves appear safe and non-threatening. And often the people who look tough and “criminal” are soft-hearted romantics. (Notice I said often, not always.)

So if Olivia doesn’t know what Lucas is, how should she respond?

The answer is, any fucking way she wants to in order to feel safe.

hold that thought

In the moment, there is no time to worry about what others will think of you or say about you. You must act on instinct. If something doesn’t feel right, don’t ignore it. And this applies to the long-term manipulations too. If something doesn’t feel right, don’t ignore it.

It’s that exact hesitation your attacker needs to make their move. With random acts of violence, it’s the pause before handing over the phone. Your attacker knows what society expects of you. He knows you don’t want to be labeled a bitch. He relies on that fact to trap you.

In long-term manipulations, it’s the pause while you recollect all the good things you know about the attacker that seem to disagree with that icky feeling you have that something just isn’t right. Again, he knows. He’s relying on the surety that you will not quickly dismiss all the good things you know about him. In fact, he has most-likely groomed you right into this position. (Read more about grooming here.)

don’t judge meSexual assault discussion

What it all comes down to is that so many attacks and incidents could be avoided if we didn’t stop to consider “What will people think of me if I falsely accuse him/make it clear I don’t like what he’s doing?”

Stop doing that. Personal safety first. No matter what.

And society, for your part, stop judging others period. Just stop.

Your turn

I would love to hear your thoughts on this. Have you experienced The Pause before? How did it turn out for you? What did others have to say about it? How do you feel about societal standards and how they play into sexual assault?

Talk to me.

All images in article are from free royalty free website pixabay.com.