History Repeats

Vampires and werewolves; oh joy!  I know, I know...but it was stuck in my head and it had to be written.  Enjoy!

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History Repeats

What fascinated Elsie Minor the most about Martin Bullen wasn’tthat he drank other people’s blood, or that he’d live forever.  Being with him meant that she, too, would beimmortal, but that wasn’t all that interesting, either.  She liked being your average, run-of-the-millwerewolf, and mortality had its perks. 

What most fascinated Elsie was the fact that she couldn’t readabout Martin Bullen in any textbook.  Shecouldn’t find his name on registers or confirm that what he said was true.  But why would he lie?  All he’d had to do was find himself in theright place at the right time, alone, with Elsie, trapped in the gloomy breakroom at the hospital, and, with a grin, he’d pulled her under his spell.  By his own admission, and she was willing totake his word for it, he hadn’t even had to use any of the tricks of hisspecies to win her over.  Elsie had towonder if she was truly that easy to read.

He’d started telling his story before she’d even revealed her loveof history.  If he was a con man (to behonest, he’d had centuries of practice), he was a damn good one, to be able torecognize such a personal trait so easily. But Elsie had learned, long ago, not to ask questions.  She liked to listen.  Martin didn’t mind doing all the talking.

The Modern Age

This is built from a writing exercise we had to do in my Intermediate Fiction class a few weeks ago.  The professor handed out a bunch of wedding announcements from the New York Times and, based on the picture of the couple and the provided information, we had to write the scene in which their marriage crumbled.  I literally got the most pretentious-sounding couple in history, and I knew they looked the type to split up over something stupid on their honeymoon, so I wrote that.

Names have been changed to protect these people I've never met (and to protect myself from a lawsuit).  I don't remember their real names, so I can't Google them to see if they've split up yet.  My money's on yes, but I just hope they're both still happy.

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The Modern Age

The night before they were to leave Saint Tropez, Lauren dug her laptop out of her carry-on bag to check the news.  Three weeks of honeymoon bliss, ignoring the HD TV and limiting yourself to only a few, furtive glances at the cell, could be bad for business.  She logged into her email, skimmed a few notes and memos, but nothing seemed especially important.  No one had posted anything offensive, no scandals to cover up on the main page.  Her temp was doing a good job of holding down such a huge virtual fort—even if she hadn’t gone to Harvard, like Lauren had.

A Drabble

It's 4:30AM on New Year's Day and I'm still a little tipsy off of vodka shots and good conversation.  But the cold woke me up and your words keep me warm and I don't know what to say anymore.  That awkward moment when it's a new year and I'm the same old me.  I'm still drunk.  I'm in love with you.  It's the holidays and the memories and I probably shouldn't tell you that right now.  There are others, have been and will be, and I'll try.  But you're you and I can't ignore that any longer.  Break my heart; it means you care.

CP

In the alcove of the smoke-infested Medusa, over the din of mid-90s rock and pole-dancing Swedes, I had to let the prince down easy.  His hand on my chest, both of mine on his shoulders, I pulled away and let him kiss my cheek, my neck, my hair.  "I can't do this," I yelled in his ear, competing with Hoobastank for the prince's attention.  "I know this usually works out for you - I mean, I figure - but I don't do this."  He didn't stop, weakening my resolve.  I hardly heard myself mumble a pitiful, "I'm sorry," around his lips on my own.

A Long, Lonely Time

Still trying to decide if this should be expanded to include some of the other little glimpses into a doomed relationship, or if there's enough here to let it stand on its own.  Read and debate for yourself, then fill me in. 

The title is also tentative; it's a line from the song "Unchained Melody" :]

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A Long, Lonely Time

When they separate in 1966, she won’t be able to cry.  She won’t allow her self-pity to swallow her whole, nor will she allow the open stares of her friends and neighbors to anger or shame her.  She won’t look at their baby boy, the one she’d brought into the world just three months before the inevitable end of their relationship.  She won’t think back on the good times, the romance, the months and months and months of bliss that should have really warned her of the incomparable heartache to come.

Geneva Wren will only be able to think of the rain.

Smack

Rated mature for drug use, language, and adult situations.  If "adult situations" means arguing with your on-again, off-again significant other about who's the worse drug user.

Marleybone is my tiny, fictional, New Mexico town that will probably be the center of either a series of short stories and vignettes or a novel (I'm leaning towards the latter at the moment, but we'll see).  Shauna's the same that shows up in the flash fiction piece "Fantasies"; you can get the gist of her relationship with Beau from "Love Songs."

I love constructive criticism - so do your worst!