Mid-Week Blues-Buster Week 3.07
Welcome to the Mid-Week Blues-Buster Flash Fiction Challenge, Year 3, Week 7.
This is a flash fiction challenge. The prompt is a song. You are not required to write about or even mention the song. It’s there only to get the ideas moving around in your brain pan. If you want to write about the song (or the video- it’s all good here) go for it but don’t feel like you have to.
The rules;
500 words, but it’s a slushy 500, meaning you can go up to 700 or as low as 300.
Post your entry right in the comments section of this post.
MAKE SURE TO PUT YOUR TWITTER HANDLE NEXT TO YOUR WORD COUNT AT THE BOTTOM OF YOUR POST. IF YOU’RE NOT ON TWITTER GIVE ME AN EMAIL ADDRESS OR SOME OTHER WAY TO GET A HOLD OF YOU!.
The challenge starts whenever I post this on Tuesday and ends at MIDNIGHT PACIFIC TIME on Friday. You read that right. Pacific Time.
This week’s song prompt is short and bittersweet…
It’s, “Little Blue One”, by Cowboy Mouth. Here’s the link; https://youtu.be/i2lVwgiHw8w
This week’s Judge is just plain sweet– say hello to the Book Hipster, Stephanie Fuller!
The challenge opens the moment you read this post and runs through MIDNIGHT PACIFIC TIME on Friday July 17th.
Now… Go Write!!!
Posted on July 14, 2015, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. 6 Comments.
The Tsuruoka Files 
Blue
Blue
She loved the color blue on him it made her want to sin, with joy he fulfilled her every whim. On not so good days he still always gave in.
How he feels without her, just look at him snuggled in her sweater, blue of course, matches his mood. Sitting in her favorite chair playing with a lock of her hair, he’s such a sad view, her passing he rues.
The color of her kitchen, also blue, he smiles unknowingly. Remembers her bitching at the table though always wittily. She could turn the air blue with her language, the bruising of some of her words needed a bandage.
Her perfume simply called blue lingers in the air, he dabs a tear or two loudly sniffing her hair. He wishes it the old days when they were both devil-may-care.
Her parents named her Violet, how could they have known?
Her chosen palette and she not grown. No matter what the hue, she loved it once it contained some blue.
Jarred out of his reverie by the clapping of tiny feet. His hand taken lovingly as she dances to her own beat. He gazes in awe, can’t find a single flaw, a delightful creature he imbibes every feature.
Violets legacy, beautiful, her eyes a gorgeous shade. They called her Belle, and marvelled at this beautiful being they made. He drinks her eyes in that color unique breaks into a grin, his future not so bleak.
He promised Violet he’d do his best, Belle has never put that to a test. She’s a pleasure to be around and keeps his mind sound. Violet and Belle would have disagreed on a color scheme because Belle loves everything pink, if it was her prerogative blue would be gone before he could blink.
Where he used to give into Violet he now gives into Belle. He loves their wee girl and gives her another twirl. Today there buying a rabbit with pink eyes, what Violet would think he can only surmise.
He misses her every day that will never go away. Funny that now he’d do anything to stop Belle feeling blue and he thinks that Violet would be tickled pink. The future is a mystery but he will always embrace history.
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Xs and Os
558 words
@laurenegreene
Dear Jane,
The dream again. Your face. But when I wake up you’re not beside me in the ocean swell of what-used-to-be our king sized bed. The room wreaks of your ghost. I pretend not to think of you. I tell my repetitive thoughts to still the image of you in my mind as I pour two cups of coffee instead of one for the third time this week. Without thought, I pour the second one down the drain. I think about picking up the extra cup and smashing it against the wall, but instead I set it in the sink and think about how you would have told me to “just put it in the dishwasher.”
The photos of you and me in the Caymans eating turtle soup. The smile on your face is eternal. You don’t live here anymore with me, but every waking moment I have to tell myself you’re gone. Today, I’ll take the photos down. It’s been six months, and I know you’re not coming back. I’ll put them in boxes, and I’ll wrap them up, and it will be like our life together never existed. That’s what you wanted.
When your text pinged my cell at 2 AM, I had to stumble from the couch where I’d fallen asleep watching Geraldo. I knocked the half empty bottle of wine onto the rug. You remember that rug, don’t you? We spent four hours debating on whether to get blue wool or the checkered cotton at Pottery Barn. I, like the sales clerk, wanted to gouge out my eyes with knives before you’d make up your mind. Back and forth. Wishy washy. That was always your way. Maniacal laughter erupted from my lips when I thought how ironic it was that this rug, your baby, your precious, had been left in my incapable hands. It’s in the green trashcan waiting for pickup on the curb now. So long sucker.
The laughter turned to tears when I read your text. “I want an annulment.” The words stung. Married for six years and just like that you wanted to pretend we didn’t exist. Well maybe you didn’t exist, but I did. I waited for you, lost in your blue world of depression as you were. I stuck with you when no one did. I made sure they pumped your stomach. I made sure you didn’t die on the pink title floor of our bathroom by sticking my finger down your throat. Covered in your puke and half-digested pills, I helped get you to the hospital. I saved your life…literally. And I helped you find your way. Even if that way was away from me.
So, my little blue one, now that you’ve found your way you want to pretend that none of it ever happened? Move on, put me behind you and that period of your life when you couldn’t control yourself. You couldn’t control your emotions.
The answer is no. I’ll grant you a divorce, but not an annulment. Because not every day was filled with vomit and fights over rugs. I walked on the beach with you. I kissed you under a gazebo. I imagined our life together, complete with babies, and I thought I’d be with you forever. I can’t pretend that never existed.
Xs and Os, the answer is no.
–John
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Gone
I woke up in the morning to the sound of voices, and I instantly thought that you were back and in my kitchen. I imagined that you were talking to a neighbour, and I just rolled over thinking that I would go back to sleep. But, no. Reality crashed in, bringing with it the memory that you had left me. We were getting divorced, the bitter realisation hit my mind with a slap as cold as a spray from a hose.
The noise that I was hearing in this empty house could not be being made by you. You were gone, along with everything that I once held dear. Well, that is not quite true because I actually loved this house, and was glad that you had left me to blunder around it alone.
I pulled myself from my bed, and untangled those blue sheets from around my legs. I frowned down at the material as I discarded it on the floor. That colour had never been my choice. A smile tugged at my lips as I realised that, now you were gone, I was free to simply discard of all of those things that you had picked. I could not help the laughter that bubbled from my mouth as I relished my newfound freedom.
Back to the task in hand. I was going to pull on some clothes, but then I realised that I no longer had to worry about things like my dignity. You were simply not here. I moved down the steps, and discovered that at some point last night I had left the radio on. There were the sources of the voices that I was listening to. Only the radio.
I padded into the kitchen to turn it off, but that was when it happened.
It started playing that song; our song. My hand froze as it was reaching for the dial and I no longer knew exactly what I was going to do. We had been happy once. I remember. We had danced around in this very room to this song. Almost unconsciously I found my feet moving, and suddenly I was spiralling around the room as if we were a couple once again.
As the song reached its climax my vision was blinded by the tears that had formed behind my eyes. When exactly had it come to this?
We had been great together, but, Jessica, my love, we are so much better apart.
@Harmony77uk
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[Caution – Adult content. Read at your own risk.]
“Thank you, God, for that little blue pill,” Anthony silently prayed as he screwed another girl on the sofa in his apartment. “Because of that pill, I can do this.” He stroked for all he was worth, and enjoyed every stroke. He wanted more, so he started unbuttoning her shirt, “And it’s not like she’s a girl.” He opened her shirt, then fumbled with her bra until he got it pulled away. “She’s 22, maybe 23. She’s a grown woman.” He put his hands on her chest, then attacked her breasts with his mouth. “God, this is good!”
It wasn’t long until he finished, and briefly collapsed on her. After a few moments, his pulse calmed a bit, and he got off her, went to the bathroom and cleaned himself up. “I’ll have to try her again, on another day.” He smiled at himself in the mirror, “Maybe next time I’ll fuck her ass.” That thought excited him, “Yeah. I’ll do that next time.”
He finished pulling his clothes back on, then returned to the girl. She was still out, she hadn’t stirred at all. “I’ll never get over how well that powder works.” He remembered putting it in her water bottle while she wasn’t looking. Just a quick dump, and the power dissolved in a couple of seconds. It knocked her out. She’d done everything he wanted, and never batted an eye, never resisted, never struggled.
Anthony pulled out his smart phone and took a few pictures of her. He took pictures of her breasts. Then he spread her legs, and took pictures of her genitals. “More for my collection.” As a bonus to himself, he shoved his fingers in her. She never twitched. He smiled, and took pictures of his fingers inside her.
When he finished taking pictures, he pulled her bra back in place, buttoned her shirt, put her back in her underwear and pants. “Like nothing happened.” He raised her head and put a pillow under it, then covered her with a blanket. “Like nothing happened. Like it was all a dream.” He placed her shoes neatly by the side of the sofa, so she’d have no problem finding them if she woke during the night.
Then, Anthony went to his room. He downloaded the pictures from his phone to his computer where he added them to his collection. The added pictures brought his collection to seven girls. He liked to stare at the pictures, and fantasize about them begging him to fuck them. “Make it hard, and deep! More! More!” About them moaning with each stroke he made. About them saying things he wanted to hear, “Fuck my ass! Fuck my ass!”
He carefully shut down his computer, so she couldn’t check it when she woke. He did a hard reset on his phone to clear all the data. Then, he went to sleep. “She was a good fuck. It felt good to feel her from the inside.”
When he woke the next morning, she was already gone. She’d left a note. “I’m sorry I passed out.”
Anthony laughed, “I’m not. I’m plenty happy you did.”
Lust sat in the corner of the room watching Anthony, and quietly laughing. “Ah, the joys modern medicine, date rape drugs, and little blue pills.” He wondered how much havoc Anthony could cause before he inevitably got caught. He hoped it was much more. “Try for a redhead tonight, my man. Try for a redhead.”
As he headed to work, Anthony thought it would be nice if that night he could fuck the butt of a redhead.
Lust smiled, “That’s my boy!” He settled on the sofa for a nap, “Could be a fun night.”
622 Words
@LurchMunster
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