Short Story with Writing. Com Prompt

The door stood ajar and you couldn’t help but take a peek.

The door stood ajar and I couldn’t help but take a peek. The frigid silence slaps my face like a blinding January blizzard. Usually, I can feel him, feel everything he thinks and does. We’re one in this universe at least I thought we were on this August day.
Her arms are wrapped snuggly around his neck in a lover’s embrace. Their bodies sway with every note. Our song plays in the background with every beat I want my feet to move but the floor clenches them in place tighter than any leather restraint he used on me when we played his fetish games. I shut my eyes but the image is still there. I try to clear my throat, anything to free myself from seeing him with my best friend. My knees tremble, the knocking loudly echoing in my ears, the sound more deafening than Niagara Falls.  Why can’t they hear or see me?
I tried to shake my head but I can’t. I try to raise my arms but I can’t. I’ve frozen like Frosty the snowman except I don’t have a scarf around my neck. The brisk air feels like shards of glass hitting my neck. The air swirls around my bare calves and lifts the dress chilling me to my core.
What is happening to me? To us? What us? Leonard and Sharon are together. They are lovers. How did I not see this?
I used to cherish every moment with him, every thought of him made my skin flush with anticipation. The mere idea, my longing for him filled me every waking thought. I never imagined a time without him until now.
A gust of wind shudders past my ear. I watch in horror as my lover and my best friend’s bodies explode apart blood spraying the lush blue floral rug. The same rug we made love upon so many times. Another ripple of air passes my head and his body rise and falls with the strike. I try to move again but can’t. His blood sprays all over my silky shins dripping into my sandals coating my feet. My screams freeze in mid-air.  I can see my words floating but there is no sound.
I watch him gurgle and gag. The blood oozes from his mouth, and then his chest collapses with one final heave. I hear a whimper and then another burst of air and her body jumps spraying blood across his body peppered with holes. I can’t see the lavender flower pattern on the rug anymore, only red spreading out. The sweet stench makes my nostrils flare and my stomach recoil but my feet remain locked in place. I twist and try to get my legs free but to no avail. I wrench with revulsion as my toes wiggle in the sticky wetness.
Oddly, An Eclipse of the Heart begins playing and I realize how dark it is outside. The sunlight has vanished completely. I had wanted to share the eclipse with him. It was to be a surprise because I ordered the glasses months ago just for this moment. Leonard and I on the balcony with glasses of wine talking. All my friends, co-workers were getting together with their families to watch this monumental moment in time. I think the next one is 2024, maybe, I dream we’d have our own family then. We’ve never talked about children before but I had hoped today we might
I never saw any indication that he was seeing my best friend. I feel like a fool, guess I was eclipsed in more ways than I expected. Sharon and I did everything together or so I thought we did.  How could I have been so blind?
I shiver feeling the stickiness clinging to my cold skin. I try to move my arms to adjust my dress. Why did I pick today to wear nothing under my silk dress? I screamed but the letters of every one of my frantic words float over the bodies dropping one at a time upon the blood saturated rug. The blood seeps into each letter as they lay upon the carpet.
I heard the elevator door buzzer chime and then I listened to the doors open but I can’t’ move to see if anyone was there. My eyes are the only thing I could move.  I see the sky lighten through the picture window. It was a gorgeous August day and the sun shone brightly in the room as if nothing had happened.  I struggle again trying to break free my invisible restraints. The clock strikes sharply four times.
“Hi honey, how was your day?”
Leonard reaches for my hand, he draws me in for an embrace. “Honey, your skin is like an icicle. Let me turn up the air conditioner and you slip into something warmer. I’ll put the water on for some tea. You’re going to catch a death of a cold.”
I didn’t move or say a thing. Leonard pulls me inside and closes the door. I glanced at the rug and the lovely powder blue with lavender flowers. It was spotless. There are no bodies, no blood, nothing. I raise my eyes and look Leonard over. I shiver, shake my head and leap for the bathroom.
He was wearing my favorite black dress pants and gray pinstripe shirt with his cuffs rolled back. Before today, when I saw him like this he looked so sexy to me with his bare toes peeking out from the cuffs of his pants.  Now, I just shake.
I look at myself in the mirror, I’m pale as a ghost and my teeth are chattering. What the hell? What the fuck just happened? Am I going crazy? I tell myself to catch my breath and get myself under control. I Inhale deeply trying to relax when I spot s familiar makeup bag lying on the counter. I notice the red marks all over my arms as I reach for the bag.
“Leonard Where’s Sharon?”

1002 w/c

A stealth writer’s-productivity idea #productivewriter

I’m a huge fan of pencil and paper already so seeing check marks when I’ve completed a task within a time frame sounds appealing. I think it would help me stay focused with a timer ticking too! Thanks Theresa!

Theresa Barker - Lab Notes

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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

At times I think of myself as a “stealth writer.”  I like to sneak up on writing, catch myself by surprise, and write about something that I never expected.  And, I equally enjoying discovering ways to feel I’m being more productive in writing, without feeling like I’m punishing myself.  Self-punishing is no way to invent truly creative work!

In recent weeks I’ve been experimenting with a stealth writer’s-productivity tool – the Pomodoro Technique.  The Pomodoro Technique is an idea borrowed from the world of software development.  I learned about it recently in an article in the Chronicle of Higher Education.  But even though the idea didn’t come from a writing conference or a how-to book on writing, it has been a terrific technique to help me get more writing done.  Bonus:  I feel much more satisfied…

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Is There A Song For That

Is there a song for that?
The words say I can’t go there.
I need to find a way to be cool.
I thought I could touch this place
but instead, I felt like a fool.
Is there a song for that?
Ain’t no talking to this man!
What’s he trying to say?
He tweets before his brain engages!
My mother warned me about this day.
Is there a song for that?
The words say I can’t go there.
I need to find a way to be cool.
I thought I could touch this place
but instead, I felt like a fool.
Is there a song for that?
Lyric by lyric I looked for love,
I thought if I could only sing my way,
I would find myself in the melodies.
Don’t let me down, I’m too tired to stay!
Is there a song for that?
Ain’t no talking to this man!
What’s he trying to say?
He tweets before his brain engages!
My mother warned me about this day.
Is there a song for that?
Patti Griffin says yeah girl there is!
Don’t whine that you never get what you want
But… but it’s all my fault!
Girl, get ready for a new jaunt
Is there a song for that????…

 

The Lady Don’t Look Back!w/c 216  31 lines

The Painless Truth

There is a crazy contest going on Writing.Com and the prompt for the writing challenge was to write a dark poem answering this question Is death unpleasant?
This is where my mind went after remembering the question life asked death.

The Painless Truth

Is death unpleasant
To have no yesterday
no tomorrow
Sounds inviting to me
I know death is a distant rumor
to you who are young
But not for me,
I long
To forget time,
to forget life
to finally find peace
I’ve flown as high as I’m flying
Our lives will end the same way
Only a few mere details will differ
But you ask why love death
instead of loving life
Life is filled with beautiful lies
Death is the painless truth
and
Truth matters the most to me.

93 w/c including title