Flash Fiction Rodeo Contest
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Scars – My Entry for Charli Mills’ Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction (Nonfiction)

December 5, 2017 /

Flash Fiction Rodeo Contest

 

This was my second entry for Charli Mills’ Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction (Nonfiction) Rodeo Contest. It was a double-header 99 words no more or less times 2.

 

The topic – Scars – was inspired by a quote by Stephen King – whose book on writing should be read, I believe, by all aspiring writers. He wrote “Writers remember everything … especially the hurts. Strip a writer to the buff, point to the scars, and he’ll tell you the story of each small one. From the big ones you get novels. A little talent is a nice thing to have if you want to be a writer, but the only real requirement is the ability to remember the story of every scar.” Entries were to show a remembered scar using any genre the writer chose in 198 words. 

You can read more about the contest and see some entries over at Charli’s Carrot Ranch

 

Forbidden Passion

 

Our eyes met and locked with desire. A whirlwind of wining, dining, and dancing kept our hearts riding on the crest of passion. When his fingertips held my face, it left imprints of electric shocks into the depths of never-ending want while I’d gaze into his big, soulful eyes.

 

The way he said my name increased the rhythm of my heart. When we danced we became one, and our hearts joined in an unstoppable, pulsating desire. No words of love were ever spoken to complicate our romance, yet we both knew, we understood within.

 

Harsh reality set in after that magical year we shared, much longer than we’d both anticipated. One night, one look in his once smiling eyes showed the happiness was stripped from his soul. We remained in a desperate embrace dancing our last dance before the sacrifice.

 

His lips parted with pain, spilling the words “I love you, but I can’t be completely yours.” Our lips so close we shared the same oxygen as our tears melded, tasting each other’s brine. His hand squeezing mine so tight, his wedding ring embedded my palm. The music stopped, we parted, each leaving with half the other’s heart.

 

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D.G. Kaye is a nonfiction/memoir writer, who writes from her own life experiences and self-medicates with a daily dose of humor.

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