Monday Flash Fics: The Chosen One

The Chosen One

“Are you ready?”

Kell took a deep breath and swallowed before opening his mouth to respond. Forty-eight hours of not talking to anyone had left his mouth dry and him tongue tied. “Yeah, as ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

“I don’t know what you’re so worried about. It’s a simple test. All firstborns in our line have to face it. You know this.” His mother sounded exasperated.

He forced a smile on his face and got up from the floor where he’d been sitting. Stretching his limps to get the kinks out he bought himself a few more precious seconds. What if it happened? What if it didn’t?

His mother handed Kell the hooded cloak and he put it on over his naked body. He should have spent the past two days meditating, preparing his mind, body and soul for the revelations he might be facing. Instead he’d worried about the future and dreamed about Mascha.

Mascha. He only just repressed the sigh wanting to escape him. They’d known better. Both he and Mascha had known what lay ahead and that they might not have a future together. They’d tried to fight the feelings but the connection between them had been too strong. They’d talked about it and had come up with all sorts of justifications for their continued intimacy.

“Surely we wouldn’t feel drawn to each other as strongly as we do if it wasn’t meant to be,” Mascha had argued. And in the heated moment Kell hadn’t been able or willing to come up with a counter argument. But now their time was up. Not they but the Universe determined who Kell would spend his life with. As the future leader of his people he had to submit to the vagaries of faith and accept whoever his chosen partner might be.

The silence felt oppressive when Kell followed his mother to the rock throne in the centre of the village green. The hood pulled over his head prevented Kell from seeing anything unless it was straight ahead of him. He knew Mascha was somewhere in the crowd, he could feel his lover’s presence but he knew better than to look. If Mascha wasn’t his chosen one, their past relationship, if revealed, would mean death to the man Kell loved.

Kell sat down on the hard surface of the throne and send a silent plea up to the stars. One by one every villager between the age of seventeen and twenty-five walked to the throne, stopped, waited and moved on again. Forty-five years had passed since the last time this ceremony took place and Kell’s mothers had found each other and few remembered what the moment of revelation looked like.

They were nearing the end of the line and Kell wondered what would happen if nobody was chosen. Would he then be allowed to pick for himself? Kell lowered his gaze as hope blossomed in his chest and grew and grew, until it didn’t feel like hope anymore but something he’d never felt before. He’d never known you could feel life rushing through your veins but he did. A throbbing he’d only ever felt in his balls just before ejaculating buzzed through his whole body. 

Kell was vaguely aware of the exited gasps around him before he looked up and saw himself reflected in the deep green and very familiar eyes staring at him. He saw the reflection of the sparkling stars surrounding his face and could have wept. The choice had been made, Kell’s position in the Universe confirmed and he’d embrace his future with open arms...as soon as he’d finished embracing his chosen mate, Mascha.

****

610 words

As always more pictures inspired by the same image can be found in the Monday Flash Fics group on Facebook. And talking about the group, why don’t you join us? Either to suggest images or to write a flash of your own when a picture inspires you. We’re an easy going bunch, not too strict when it comes to word counts (after all, this flash of mine was over by 110 words J) and we don’t expect anybody to join in every week.

Monday Flash Fics: Oops

Oops

I’m not quite sure how it came to this. I mean, it’s not as if I’m in the habit of tying people up, putting them in the boot of my car and driving them to an isolated location. It’s not something I’ve ever done before, and I sincerely hope I’ll never have to do it again. But, things being what they are, it is the precise situation I find myself in. Driving through town, I make very sure not to exceed the speed limit because the last thing I need right now is for the police to pull me over. I mean, how do you explain a tied up man in the part of your car usually reserved for the spare tyre and luggage?

Oops.I probably should have slowed down a bit before taking that speed bump.The sounds coming from the boot make me flinch before I remember this is how it’s meant to be. After all, he asked for it, didn’t he?

I don’t slow down for the second bump in the road either as I think back to the sequence of events that put me in this position. Everything would have been fine if he could just have let it rest, but he had to keep on and on and on; pestering me without respite. I tried being reasonable and held on to my patience for as long as I could. And then, because I’m no saint,he pushed me too far.

I waited for him in a corner of the garage, invisible to him when he walked in, while I could see him clearly in the light flowing in through the open door behind him. By the time he realized what was happening, I had the rope around him, his arms tightly secured against his torso, before taking care of his legs. He was heavier than I expected him to be and it occurred to me that I should have allowed him to get closer to the car before tying him up, but by then it was too late. I could hardly untie him and ask him to walk to the car for me, now could I?

I breathe a sigh of relief when I see the dirt track off to the right. The potholes littering the road make me bounce up and down in my seat and I try to imagine what it must be like for him. For a moment remorse assails me before I let it go again. This is nobody’s fault but his. I have nothing to feel guilty about; nothing at all.

I pull over and stare through the windscreen for a few moments. This is the moment of truth and I’m suddenly afraid of what I might find when I step out of the car.

I open the boot and stare down at the man blinking up at me. Blindfolding him had been considered but rejected. Just as I hadn’t bothered to gag him.

“Does that answer your question?”

His smile touches something deep inside of me, as it always does.

“Yes. Thank you. Now I know exactly how to write that scene.”

****

523 words

This story was inspired by a picture as shared in the Monday Flash Fics Group on Facebook. On the page you'll find more shorts based on the same photo and you could always join us and maybe write a story of your own next week. It really is a case of the more the merrier and everybody is welcome.

The Frustrating Distance Between Us

I’m a big fan of the internet and will forever be grateful for the people I’ve met and continue to meet and the friendships I’ve formed and continue to form. Through Twitter and Facebook I’ve met the most amazing people, expanded my horizons, and found support beyond anything I could have hoped for. But – you knew this was coming, didn’t you – there are days when a friendship ‘only’ being virtual gets extremely frustrating.

Without naming issues or identifying those dealing with them – because my friends know who they are and theirs are not my stories to share – I have to say that it breaks my heart that I can’t physically be in their presence. While I’m not much of a hugger at the best of times, all my instincts scream at me to wrap them in my arms and hold them close. Having thousands of miles between me and those I want to comfort leaves me feeling helpless and frustrated.

What I can do to show my love and support all too often feels like not enough, a sad and insufficient substitute for what I want to be able to give. Sometimes words are not enough, inadequate, or too much. Some situations require more than clichés and empty, be it heartfelt, words.  All I want is to be present, hold my friends’ hands and pass the tissues when required. A direct message on Facebook, while better than nothing, does not allow me to give the level of comfort I want to provide.

I realize this post is rather self-indulgent. While it is very frustrating that I can’t physically stand by my friends while they go through very though times, my issue is trivial compared what they are actually facing. I wanted to say it anyway because it has been hitting me very hard over the past few weeks, and because I want those friends to know that while I may not always have the right words at the right moment, they’re forever in my heart and on my mind.

Monday Flash Fics: Sixty-six Years

This story is the sequel to the flash I posted two weeks ago, titled Thirty Weeks. I’ll hope you’ll enjoy your second encounter with Victor, Fabian and the sea.

Sixty-six Years

Exactly sixty-six years had passed, give or take a few hours. The sun was merely a reminder on the horizon rather than setting and the pathway into the sea was gone of course. Victor thought back to the moment the sea claimed it, as if the salty water needed something in return for giving up Fabian to the man who loved him enough to build it.

Fabian had explained it all after their passionate and heated reunion. “That’s where I’m from, Victor, my people live in the sea. When we’re twenty-five we’re given a year to experience life on land. If we’re lucky enough to find someone who truly loves us we may re-join them. But only after they prove their love is strong and only for as long as that love lasts.”

It had taken Victor some time to get his head around it all. Fabian’s departure had nearly torn him apart and the return of the man he loved seemed too good to be true, and yet, here he was, next to Victor on the beach, as satisfied as Victor was.

“What happens if the love doesn’t last?” Victor had been afraid to ask the question but the need to know had been stronger.

“Why, do you doubt your feelings for me?” Fabian had sounded both amused and worried.

“No, but the rest of my life is a long time.” If Victor knew one thing about love it was that it required honesty.

“If you ever stop loving me I will have one hour to make it back to the sea before my lungs will stop working and I’ll die the same way a fish does when it’s left on land.”

Fabian had been very matter of fact about his possible fate. Victor on the other hand had been scared out of his wits, the responsibility felt too large and yet he couldn’t imagine going back to living without Fabian.

For three years Victor had refused to leave the coast. He needed to be sure that Fabian would be safe if Victor’s heart would ever betray them. They’d travelled after that, secure in the knowledge that their love grew stronger rather than diminished with time.

Now they were back. Victor knew his days, no scratch that, his hours were numbered. The last few days had been a struggle, and Victor had been afraid he wouldn’t live long enough to get Fabian to within one hour from the sea, but he had. Victor lay on the beach in Fabian’s arms. Breathing was difficult and his eyes were heavy when suddenly the sea lit up, reflecting the night sky on the water.

“See that my love that’s my world, welcoming us back.”

Victor smiled. “You, they’re welcoming you back. I’ve reached the end of the road. Just....”

“Just what? Anything for you my love.”

“Take me with you when you return. Bury me where you will be.” Victor closed his eyes and surrendered. His life had been long and filled with love. He hated leaving Fabian, but if it had to happen, this was how it should be.

Victor was barely conscious when Fabian lifted him up and walked into the sea. He felt the warm embrace of the water and briefly wondered whether dying underwater would be easier than dying on land. Then the water covered his head and he stopped thinking.

“Open your eyes my love.”

Victor blinked and looked up at what looked like the night sky except that it moved.

“I’ve shared your life for sixty-six years. Now you get to share mine until the end of time.”

****

633 words.

More stories inspired by the same picture can be found in the Monday Flash FicsGroup on Facebook. That’s also where we’ll announce the image for next week’s flashes.

Monday Flash Fics: Higher, Daddy

Higher, Daddy

Eighteen months. Seventy-eight weeks. Five-hundred and forty-six days.

He pushed the swing and watched as it moved away from him, arched and swung back.

He missed her. Every single minute of every single day her absence surrounded and suffocated him. All the places where she wasn’t reminded him of what he’d lost.

The movements of the swing got shorter and he had to take a step forward to give it another push before quickly retreating to avoid the seat hitting him in the face. For a moment he thought he heard light and happy laughter in the air and his thoughts flew back to that morning, almost two years ago now.

On the morning of Shelley’s third birthday it had been hard to say who was more excited, his daughter or Sean. He’d wanted to rush her out to the garden the moment she woke up but Alice had put her food down and had insisted they’d all sit down to breakfast first.

Alice. Thinking about his ex-wife threatened to spoil his trip down memory lane and he pushed her out of his mind and fast-forwarded to the moment they did step into the garden and Shelley saw the swing-slide combo. He closed his eyes and heard her squeals. When she ran towards her birthday present on her still chubby legs his chest had filled with pride. He’d made this happen for her with his own two hands. This was what it was all about. This made all of it worth it. Enough moments like this might make it possible for him to forget.... He hadn’t allowed himself to finish the thought then and he didn’t finish it now, even if his reasons had changed.

“Higher, daddy. Push higher.”

He remembered Shelley’s excited voice as she shouted at him, glancing over her shoulder with a radiant smile on her face. They’d spent the whole morning swinging and sliding, having fun. It had been magical.

He opened his eyes and looked at the swing, hanging motionless in front of him.

Six months later Alice and Shelley had been ripped from his life. One moment they’d been there, the next they’d disappeared. Gone, leaving him adrift in their old family home. Anger and frustration rushed through his body. It wasn’t fair. He hadn’t deserved that.

He gave the swing a violent shove and had to jump out of the way of the back swing hurling towards him. He stepped back and stared at the seat as it swung.

Two arms embracing his waist shook Sean out of his trance.

“Any minute now. Are you ready?” Roy’s voice was soft and understanding.

“Yes I am.” Sean put his hand on top of Roy’s and squeezed lightly.

Eighteen months ago Alice had taken Shirley and disappeared, leaving only a note telling Sean he’d never see his daughter again. A small fortune later he’d found her, a court case had taken care of the custody issue.

When he raised his eyes and looked at the ground in front of the swing he could have sworn he saw the shadow of a little girl on the seat.  Sean smiled, any moment now it would be more than just a shadow.

****

534 words

As always more stories inspired by the same picture can be found in the Monday Flash Fics Group on Facebook.

Monday Flash Fic: Thirty Weeks

Before I share the picture and the story it inspired I feel I should warn anybody who might read this. My flash this week is far more obscure than what I usually come up with. I did check and Brigham Vaughn assures me the story manages to stay on the right side of incomprehensible. I hope you’ll agree J

Thirty Weeks

Fifteen

The tree stump weighed a ton and got heavier in his arms with every step he took. Victor grimaced as he clamped his arms tighter around the rough wood. It didn’t help he’d further to walk every time he did this either.

Eighteen

Every tree stump he stepped on represented a week; seven full days more since the last time he’d seen Fabian.

Twenty-two

His subconscious continued counting as Victor’s memories took him back to that day, now thirty weeks ago.

“I have to go, my love. You know I don’t have a choice.” There’d been sadness in Fabian’s eyes as he spoke but also a tiny flicker of hope. “If you do what I asked you to do, if you trust me enough to fulfil my wish I promise we’ll be reunited.”

Victor had pleaded with Fabian. Much to Fabian’s shock and Victor’s embarrassment he’d fallen to his knees and begged, with tears in his eyes. Seeing his pain mirrored in Fabian’s beautiful, almost aqua-marine coloured, eyes had only made Victor feel worse. They were made for each other. He’d no doubt they belonged together and Victor knew Fabian felt the same.

“Get up. Don’t do this. This parting is hard enough as it is. We have no choice, you know that.”

Getting up from his knees had been one of the hardest things Victor had ever done in his life but he’d forced himself. “I’ll do it. I will make the path, I promise.

Please....Just tell me why?”

Fabian had shaken his head. It wasn’t the first time Victor had asked the question and the answer hadn’t changed.

“I can’t. Just have faith. Please....” Fabian’s eyes had brightened suspiciously.  “Trust me. Trust us.”

Victor had nodded his head helplessly and watched while the man he loved more than life itself walked away from him, into the sea where the waves seemed to embrace him, before Fabian disappeared.

Twenty-six

He’d built this path into the sea. A path towards the setting sun because his now lost lover had asked him to do so. He’d no idea what the purpose of this exercise was but he didn’t mind the task anymore. It gave him something to keep busy with. It marked the passing time in an otherwise empty life.

Twenty-nine

Victor stopped walking. This was as far as he’d come. He carried stump number thirty in his arms, the weight of it nearly toppling him into the sea.

Despite his aching arms Victor couldn’t bring himself to lower the last piece of wood. If nothing happened once he’d put it in place, if his life after this action were to turn out as empty as it had been the past 30 weeks he wasn’t sure how he’d gone on.

Gravity took over and it was all Victor could do to make sure the wooden stump settled in the right place. Exhausted he stayed on his knees, while staring at the sea that had claimed his love.

Out of nowhere a column of water raised up in front of Victor, obscuring the setting sun on the horizon, and rushed towards him. The wave curled at the top and crashed over him without a drop of water touching Victor. He was still staring at the sea, trying to figure out what had just happened when he heard a voice behind him.

“I told you I’d be back.”

****

566 words

More stories based on the same picture can be found in the Monday Flash Fics group on Facebook.

Monday Flash Fic: Pride

Pride

“If it isn’t Donovan Grady. Fancy meeting you here.”

Donovan – Donny to his friends – spun around and stared at the bobby who’d said the words. Shit, shit, shit. He hadn’t paid the policemen standing along the parade route any attention at all. He certainly hadn’t expected one of them to know him; one of them to be the man he’d bullied relentlessly when they’d both been teenagers. Who would have thought wimpy and shy Edward McCabe would grow up to join the ranks?

Of course, if Donovan was honest, he had to admit Edward hadn’t just been wimpy and shy; he’d also been cute as hell and that had first confused and later infuriated Donovan.

“Edward, this is unexpected. I guess we’re both a long way from home.” Donovan wasn’t quite sure how to talk to the man whose school years he’d turned into hell. Mind you, his hadn’t been easy either. Trying to hide who you truly were while harassing those who were brave enough to come out, had proven quite exhausting.

Edward smiled the same sweet smile Donovan remembered from the past – the smile he’d worn regardless of the shit Donovan and his mates had thrown at him. The smile Donovan had loved to see as much as he’d hated it. It had made Donovan’s heart beat faster while his mates had seen it as proof that Edward had a crush on him and they’d teased him relentlessly. Which of course had only made Donovan crueler to Edward.

“I never thought I’d find you in the middle of a pride parade. What a difference a few years make.” The smile never left Edward’s face.

If their positions had been reversed Donovan would have used this meeting as an opportunity to rub Edward’s former hypocrisy in his face. But Edward had been a forgiving soul in the past and, if appearances were anything to go by, that hadn’t changed.

“Yes...” Donovan felt the blush as it crept up his neck and cheeks, “I guess some of us were slower to admit the truth about ourselves than others.”

For the first time since Edward had said his name, Donovan broke out of his personal bubble of memories and became once again aware of the people streaming by them, all part of the large and very colourful Pride festival in London. It was a far cry from the small Northern town they’d both grown up in. The town Donovan never visited anymore because his parents refused to accept the truth about their son.

Thinking about his parents made Donovan’s mind up for him. He’d nothing to lose anymore. His friends had been right, he did have a crush on this man when they were both sixteen and, looking at Edward’s smiling face now, he had to admit, the attraction hadn’t diminished over the years.

“You’re on duty?” Donovan asked.

“Yes, until six.”

“Want to meet for a drink when you’re off? I owe you an explanation.”

When Edward opened his mouth to interrupt him, Donovan rushed on. “Or at least an apology. Let me buy you a pint.”

“Sure. You don’t owe me anything but I’d like to go for a drink later.” Edward’s sweet smile stretched into a grin.

Donovan couldn’t resist. He bent forward and placed a soft and long overdue kiss on Edward’s cheek. “I’ll see you later so.”

****

This story was a little bit too long at 560 words, but I just didn't want to cut it any further. As always, other flashes can be found in the Monday Flash Fics Facebook group. That is also where we will be posting the picture for next week's story later today (Monday July 6).