Showing posts with label My Writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label My Writing. Show all posts

Tuesday 25 February 2020

Flash Fiction: Romance is Dead

Nerves flutter in my chest at the prospect of seeing his face again. I can't say I'm fond of Valentine's Day, but it’s supposed to be the most romantic day of the year… the perfect day for what I’ve got planned. I finish applying my velvety red lipstick with the precision of an artist, before stepping back and taking in my look, pleased with the woman smiling back at me from the mirror. 

I smooth out the slinky fabric of my dress with manicured fingertips and slip my feet into a pair of black satin heels, fresh from the box. My phone vibrates with a message from my sister. I frown and glance down at the glowing screen.

Good luck! Text if you need rescuing.

I smile, and slip the phone back into my bag, next to his Valentine’s Day gift. I feel quietly confident I won't need rescuing.

My heels hit the pavement, glistening with freshly fallen rain, as I make my way to the restaurant. A steady rhythm, echoing the anxious beating of my heart. 

One. 
Two. 
Three. 
Four.

He should be arriving in about ten minutes, so I sink into my seat and pretend to browse the menu whilst I wait impatiently. Italian was never my preference, and he had never been good at timekeeping. It's not long until I hear the familiar sound of his voice. I smile, as I peer over my menu at him. He’s smiling too, as he gazes into the eyes of the woman by his side. 

Her eyes.

My own eyes turn into narrow slits as I watch them being guided to a nearby table. A smile plays upon my scarlet lips as I shake my head slowly. It shouldn't be this easy to track someone down. People shouldn't discuss their plans on their public social media pages. 

It's criminally stupid. 

Fair game. 

I fend off an involuntary shudder as he leans in and whispers something in her ear. She blushes, and tucks a lock of golden hair behind her ear.

The date was painfully slow. I give up on my too-chewy steak to lurk outside and wait for them, knowing they’re grabbing a drink before heading home. I shiver, and slip on my gloves. Clouds of condensation form in the air as I breathe. 

Inhale. 
Exhale. 
I think warm thoughts.

It's not long before they spill out of the restaurant, stumbling slightly, in a wine-induced haze. I fall into line behind them, absorbing myself in a huddle of women chanting something about Galentine’s Day. We file into a cocktail bar and join the throng, buzzing around the bar like bluebottles delighting in a decaying corpse. I smile inwardly at the comparison as I pull his gift out of my bag. 

I'm so close I can breathe in the scent of his aftershave. The one I bought him for Christmas, days before the crushing news of his sordid affair hit me. Days before he left, taking my heart and my trust with him. 

Bergamot.
Cedarwood.
Anger.

Memories bubble to the surface and I bite my lip so hard a globule of deep red blood beads on my skin. I inhale the scent deep into my lungs one last time, as I slide the kitchen knife between his ribs, and dissolve back into the bluebottles.

You'd think in this day and age, people wouldn't leave spare keys under plant pots, but it suited me down to the ground.

When I needed a kitchen knife with her finger prints on it.

---

Roxie Key

@RoxieAdelleKey

Friday 25 October 2019

Flash Fiction: Retribution

Hello, fellow readers and writers. Previously I shared a piece of flash fiction that won a competition. I've decided to share the other entry that didn't make the shortlist, because I quite like it and would love to get your thoughts. Please read on for Retribution.

---

A loud groan echoed in the darkness and awoke Evelyn with a start. She became aware of the ground pressing against the back of her skull, shoulder blades, coccyx and heels, the cold seeping into her skin. Propping herself onto her elbows, she felt a splitting pain reverberating through her head, realising the groan that had disturbed her sleep had escaped her own throat.

"Who are you?" a voice demanded.

As her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, Evelyn twisted painfully on the spot to squint at the source of the sound: a teenager had folded herself into the corner of the dark, damp room as if trying to disappear into the wall.

"My name is Evelyn. I'm a police detective." She climbed weakly to her feet and peered at the face she recognised; the face she’d been trying to track down for weeks. "Amelia Foley?"

The girl nodded cautiously, the frown on her face fading slightly.

"How did you get here? Who’s holding you captive?"

She scowled again. "I don't know his name. He barely comes down here." Evelyn spied the crisp packet and water bottles littering the ground. Just enough to keep a prisoner alive… barely. Evelyn tried to think back to how she ended up locked up in the very same cellar where Amelia was being held captive. She couldn't remember a thing since walking home from her last shift. Could she even remember turning the key in the lock? She didn't think so.

The cellar door banged open and Amelia yelped. Evelyn shielded her eyes from the bright light that sliced into the darkness of the cellar and gasped. "Jason?"

He laughed bitterly. "No, not Jason. He's still rotting in the prison cell you put him in, Evelyn." He spat her name out like it was a swear word. "I'm his brother, Mark."

"You," she said incredulously. "You're the one who's been following me." Evelyn subconsciously patted her pockets and belt but of course he had removed her ASP, taser and radio. Mark approached her like a wolf, eyes transfixed on his prey. Evelyn stepped backwards and started to edge around the room so she could keep Amelia in her line of vision. "What do you want, Mark?"

"Revenge. Nothing more."

"We had to arrest him, Mark. He murdered two people. He tried to murder another four. We can get you some help," she offered, despite knowing he wasn't interested in any help she had to give.

He smirked at her but remained silent.

"Why didn't you kill me before?" said Evelyn, as she watched Amelia carefully climbing to her feet and creeping silently along the wall behind him. "You've been stalking me for years, Mark. You've had so many chances. You've broken into my flat… you could’ve killed me in my sleep. Why didn't you?"

Amelia reached cautiously for something on the ground behind Mark.

"Killing you wasn’t enough. Not when I could create the perfect crime for you to solve, only to kill you both at the end. Such a tragedy," he whispered coldly, and stepped closer. Evelyn felt the solid roughness of the wall behind her as she ran out of space to move. She tried not to look as Amelia's fingers reached down to the ground and grasped a loose bit of stone. It wasn't big but if she used enough force it had the potential to knock him out. Evelyn had to keep Mark talking.

"Does it make you feel good, keeping defenceless women locked up in a cellar for your own pathetic revenge?" Evelyn laughed in his face. "Pathetic." His face twisted with rage as he drew back his fist.

The rock slipped from Amelia's hands with a loud clatter and she swore loudly. Mark whipped around and lunged for her, knocking her to the ground and grappling with her until her arms were pinned to the ground. She kicked him and tried fruitlessly to bite his arms. Evelyn raced from one side of the basement to the other and leapt onto Mark's back, smashing him in the side of his face with her fist. He roared in pain and flung her off. She scrabbled to her feet and dodged him as he swung for her again. Amelia rolled the loose rock towards where Evelyn was headed. Evelyn grabbed it with both hands and launched it at Mark, who staggered backwards in surprise. As he fell, he smashed the side of his head on the wall and lay motionless on the ground.

"Come on!" Evelyn yelled, motioning for Amelia to run up the stairs. When they reached the door, it didn't budge and Amelia eyes widened in fear. Evelyn threw her body against the door but it still wouldn't move. She felt a flutter of panic rising in her chest as she darted back down the steps to where Mark lay silent but breathing. She crouched down and rummaged in his jacket pockets for a key, just as he started moaning and regaining consciousness.

"Quick!" cried Amelia.

Evelyn finally found the key in Mark's back pocket, but just as she withdrew her hand she felt a jolt in her stomach as his rough, thick fingers closed around her wrist and pulled her back. She twisted, scraping the heel of her free hand on the concrete beneath her as she aimed her right boot straight into his face. He spluttered and let go. Evelyn scrabbled away from him, clumsily taking the steps two at a time before launching herself towards the door again. She could hear the thud of his footsteps behind her, the same footsteps she'd been hearing following her for the past two years. Evelyn struggled with the key, finally managing to prise open the heavy door, before they both spilled out of the door and into the safety of the sunlight. She slammed it shut behind them.

The last thing she saw was Mark's face contorted with fury as he reached for her.

---

If you have any thoughts or suggestions, please leave them in the comments section below!

Roxie Key

@RoxieAdelleKey

Friday 20 September 2019

Flash Fiction: All it Takes

*** EDIT *** I've won the competition! I officially have a wonderful editor for my completed manuscript

I entered this into Michele Sagan's "win an editor" competition and I'm over the moon to say I've been shortlisted! Read on for my first ever flash fiction piece: All It Takes.

---

I'd only looked away for a few seconds, momentarily distracted by a sound behind me. By the time I'd turned back to her, she'd wandered off. I skirted around yet another rail of sequinned dresses and a poster promising me the perfect Christmas party outfit for less than £39, before ducking my head beneath the shimmering folds of slinky fabric. I'd strongly suspected she'd made a beeline for the glitter. But no. I was wrong. She wasn't there. I straightened up and narrowed my eyes, scanning the shop floor for any sign of her. Nothing.

"Excuse me." I pushed to the front of the queue, heart pounding, the sound of frustrated women tutting barely registering in my ears. "Have you seen a little girl? She's only two. Red hair. My daughter," I added. The heavily made up twenty-something behind the counter raised her meticulously designed eyebrows in surprise. She hadn't seen her. I felt a fresh flush of panic flooding through my body. If she wasn't in the store, then she must be... my gaze fell on the glass doors that opened automatically as the shoppers entered and exited, bringing in a fresh chill and a few stray leaves with them each time. It had only been a few minutes. She couldn't have got that far. I elbowed my way through the disgruntled shoppers, too preoccupied to apologise to the woman whose bag I'd knocked to the ground, causing the contents to skitter loudly across the floor.

I burst through the doors and paused, eyes darting left, then right. Which way would she have gone? Across the road and to the left I could see a small and colourful toy shop, with a large bear grinning from behind the window... any small child's dream. I wagered my chances that she would have headed in that direction and my feet started to weave around the bustling, bag-laden shoppers before my head had registered where I needed to go. I was operating on autopilot.

I was a few tentative steps into the toy shop when I spotted a flash of red hair and the starfish shape of a pudgy hand reaching for a large plush giraffe. I let out the sharp burst of breath I didn't realise I'd been holding in. "There you are." I swooped down on her, scooping her up and pulling her warm body close to my own. She gazed back at me with quizzical green eyes, her slightly sticky fingers still buried deep in the toy's fur.
I left the shop with her bundled in my arms, heading straight back towards my car. We'd had enough excitement for one day.

A blood curdling scream rang out behind me, and her little head snapped up from its resting place on my shoulder, staring at the commotion that was happening behind us. I gripped her small frame closer to me and quickened my pace. "Don't worry, petal. Let's get home and out of the cold."

Her eyes were troubled. "Mumma?"
I smiled and gently smoothed a scarlet lock of hair away from her face. "Mumma's taking you home, sweetheart."
She kept looking back at the scene behind us, where a frantic woman continued to scream. Something terrible must have happened to her. Perhaps her child had been stolen from her.

Perhaps her child was the one I was holding in my arms.

I broke into a run and I didn't look back.

---

I hope you enjoyed reading it, and welcome any feedback in the comments section below.

Roxie

@RoxieAdelleKey