Friday, February 13, 2015

And we have a winner...Plus "Just a Body"

I'm happy to announce that we have a winner for the Rafflecopter giveaway of a free copy of "No Turning Back."

(James, check your email!)

Thanks to everyone who entered, and check back often for more giveaways.  For more information about "No Turning Back," such as where you can buy it, see the bottom of this post


Now, I wanted to share with you "Just A Body." I wrote this piece for Mid-Week Blues Buster, which my great author friend, Michael Simko, led me to this week. He knows all things Flash Fiction. One day, we're going to start our own Flash contest, so keep attuned for that announcement.

Also, one little brag on myself. I won Alissa Leonard's Flash Fiction contest this week with my entry of "Berlin." I'll be judging next week over there, so if you're a writer make sure to enter so you can make my decision harder!

And, without further ado, here's Just A Body:

Fumbling around in the dark, he couldn’t find where he had left his pants. He had one shoe on, and he was hopping around like one of those poor blokes in the movies. He knew it was time to leave. She was in the bed, still looking at him and scratching her armpits. God, he hated when she did that. He could imagine her monkey self, somewhere out in the jungles of Africa, and it turned his stomach.
She picked at her fingernails and looked at him, as he pulled the khaki pants up over his rump.

“So you’re going to leave again, just like that?”

“I have a lot of work to do,” he said. He was glad the lights were out, and the room was dusky, so she couldn’t see he was lying.

At exactly that same moment, she clicked on the bedside lamp. He looked like a deer in headlights, standing there slack-jawed, she thought. God, why did she invite him into her bed every time she ran into him? She’d been picking out mangoes at the grocery store this time, when he’d come up from behind. His hand automatically put his arm around her waist, as if he owned her.  

“It’s Sunday,” she said, but she could hear the neediness in her voice. She reached to the floor and plucked up the rose colored shirt that had been discarded seventeen minutes before in the heat of passion.

“Um, yeah, I know.” The words dribbled out, falling flat between them, little meaning behind them besides the lie.

“Do you think we should, you know, do more than this?” She wondered why she was asking. She’d never been one for commitment, but there was something about him.

He was standing up against the wall, and he leaned back easing into it as if it could hold him up and maybe even carry him away from this conversation.

“More than this?” he asked, acting oblivious.

“Forget it. Get to work,” she said, turning over and turning off the light.

He slammed the door when he left her house. He saw the need in her eyes for something more. But he knew he couldn’t give that to her.  He pulled out his phone and Emma’s name was flashing.

He auto-dialed.

“Hey Em.”

“Where have you been?”

“You know, just out for a Sunday stroll.”

“I have on red lingerie and I’m sitting in bed waiting for you. Waiting is so not sexy. Did you forget Sunday was our day?”

“Sorry—I just had an intense need for some mangoes.”

At least Emma understood their arrangement, he thought, as he started the car, driving towards another dark room where he could lose himself inside another woman, just a figure, just a body, nothing more.  


You Can Buy my book, "No Turning Back": 

Barnes and Noble:

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