Posted in Flash Fiction, Quotes

Go with the flow. #WQWWC

He hasn’t taken his eyes off me since I sat down. Even when he takes a drink his eyes stay on me over the rim of his glass. His Adam’s apple bobs above the open collar.

I try not to watch him. But his lips wet with the moist drink . . . and his pink tongue flicks out to lick a drop off his bottom lip.

His fingers dwarf the glass but hold it so gently.

I find myself linking my lips and taking my bottom lip in my teeth. His right eyebrow rises as he watches. His friends must wonder what he’s doing. He hasn’t said a word to them since I sat down.

“Smile at him, Linda,” Rebecca said.

“What?”

She laughs. “Girl, smile at him so he knows he can come over or send a drink or something.”

I look at her. Amusement is in her eyes, wicked amusement. “Who are you talking about?”

“Mister Can’t-Take-His-Eyes-Off-You over there.”
I wave my hand at her. “No one sees me like that.”

“Linda, in that dress, looking like that, you need to get a clue. You’ve worked hard to be fit like that. And I know him from work. I’ve never seen him look at anyone before. He’s always been all business at work and only talks to his friends when he’s here. He must think you’re special.”

“You think so?”

“I’m saying it ain’t I?”

Rebecca isn’t the kind to lie to me.

“Well . . .”

“Oh ye of little faith,” she said.

“Old habits.

“Remember that Psych class we took, and we had to learn all those quotes?”
“Yeah.”

“One stuck with me; As your faith is strengthened you will find that there is no longer the need to have a sense of control, that things will flow as they will, and that you will flow with them, to your great delight and benefit.’ It was by a Professor of Psychiatry, Emmanuel Teney.”

“So you are saying, I should just go with the flow?”
Her eyes flick over my shoulder and then back to me. “Girl, I think I should be going with the flow right now. Good luck.” With that, she takes her purse and leaves the table.

“Hello.”

I look up to see the man has moved from his table to mine.

“Hi.”

“Would you mind if we left this place and got a coffee, maybe somewhere a little quieter? Maybe you know a place you like to go to. I mean, I hope Rebecca said I was okay.”

I look past him and see Rebecca not far away, nodding and waving me to leave.

“She gave you an okay. And I know a place, not far from here. It’s a book store that’s also a coffee shop.”

He smiles and I catch my breath. “I know the place. I go there every day at lunch, just to deflate from the work day, otherwise I wouldn’t make it to the end.”

“Then let’s go.”

He pulls my chair out as I stand. Then he holds out his arm and escorts me across the room. I look back and Rebecca is standing there with her hands together in front of her and grinning. She holds up her phone and mouths ‘Call Me’.

I wink.


The theme for this weeks Writer’s Quote Wednesday Writing Challenge, that I co-host with Colleen Chesebro of Silverthreading,com is Faith. Click HERE to see more entries based on the theme.


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Posted in Flash Fiction, My Friday Fictions

The Library Date

The Library Date: A Flash Fiction Story

“Where you get that weave at?”

“Weave? Girl, you better hush. This ain’t no weave. I am all natural goddess.” I watched the two girls a few tables away. This was not going in a good direction.

“Girl, you the one better hush. Tellin’ me to hush. They got them so tight you can’t even blink. Go ahead and try. That is, if you can stop slappin’ your all ‘natural’ head long enough.”

“OOOOO, that was a burn for sure. She got her good with that one, Mac.”

I stood and put my backpack on my shoulder. “I’m out of here. They’re going to fight and I don’t want to be anywhere near it. Besides, I have a paper to research.”

My Italian-American baseball scholarship best friend wasn’t taking the hint that he should go too. “You go ahead. I’ll record anything that happens and post it. If it’s good, that is.”

“Don’t get caught in the middle of it or coach will eat you alive.”

He glanced away from the girls and up at me. “You worry too much. These are the last years we get to enjoy ourselves before being adults for real. Lighten up man. Find a girl. Go on a date. Kiss her. Do something. All books and no play makes Mac a depressed watch dog of a friend. Besides this is a girl fight. And you know what that means.” He put the sly smile on his face. Why did I choose him as my best friend?

I cast a last look toward the girls and saw the signs a fight was about to happen. Each was standing, had one hand on a hip, the other hand up with a finger working in the face of the other, and the head was going. I’d tried to do the head thing myself, for fun, but it was too painful. Men weren’t supposed to do that. Maybe it had something to do with women and their ability to look after children and families so well. They needed to see in all directions at the same time.

“See you later.” I zipped my jacket and headed away from anxiety central. There was always something going on here.

The air was crisp when I stepped outside the student center. Fall on campus was one of my favorite times. Light filtered through the orange and gold leaves and speckled the ground in front of me. Now where should I go?

I told Tony I needed to research so I could get away from the mayhem, but I did need to get that paper done. I couldn’t afford to burn the one lowest grade drop Dr. Goddard gave us for the semester. With two tests left before finals, I needed to do my best on something I had complete control over, just in case. I did not want to lose my 4.0. That meant, library time, and my date.

An hour passed with my head bent over a book. I loved history, a lot, but I wasn’t sure why I needed to know that old Louis didn’t want to conceive with Marie Antoinette, and her brothers showed up to get him drunk and circumcise him. Okay, so I know why I needed to know, but after almost four years of study, the details were beginning to play on my nerves. But the class was better than the Bosnia & Serbian class last semester. I never wanted to know the exact details of impaling and now I would never forget them. The guy Dracula was based on was one sick puppy.

My neck and back felt the pain of study or maybe I was having a sympathy pain in the neck for old Marie. Rotating my head to relieve some of the pain, a flash of silver caught my attention. The real reason I was in the library sat one table in front of me.

I didn’t know her name, was too scared to ask. She arrived every day at this time, sat at that table, and studied. She was beautiful, brainy, and real. But she was unreal at the same time. The necklace she wore seemed to signal me of her presence every time. I wasn’t even sure how the light reflected off it, but I was happy it did. That reflection had caught my eye that first time last semester.

Her hair was that dark brown so dark it looked black, and she was the most delicate looking creature I’d ever seen. But there was something strong about the look in her eyes as she read, and the way she sat. The way she moved between book and paper and drinking her bottle of water told of her determination and intelligence. I’d never seen her with anything other than water to drink. That must explain her skin.

Her head moved and I looked back down at my book. She almost caught me. My ears were beginning to burn. I hope she didn’t notice. If she did then she would know I had been staring at her.

~*~

Why doesn’t he talk to me? Does he not like me? Is it because I’m not from here? Americans can be so weird sometimes. I’ve been here every day since I saw him that time. Maybe I’m not pretty enough or he thinks I study so much because I’m not smart enough. Couldn’t he just say hello once? It must be warm in here, his neck and face are flushing. He should take that jacket off.

The Library Date: Flash FictionFor my Friday Fiction Prompt Challenge.

(For those who may wonder if I am trying to stereotype people during the beginning exchange, just ask women who have a weave done what happens. They have to have it done tightly so it lasts and you can’t scratch your head at that point so you pat your head to stop it from itching. If looks funny because if you don’t know what’s going on it looks like they are slapping themselves.)



Ronovan Hester is an author, with his debut historical adventure novel Amber Wake: Gabriel Falling due out in December of 2015. He shares his life as an amnesiac and Chronic Pain sufferer through his blog RonovanWrites.WordPress.com. His love of poetry, authors and community through his online world has lead to a growing Weekly Haiku Challenge, a Weekly Friday Fiction Prompt Challenge, and the creation of a site dedicated to book reviews, interviews and author resources known as LitWorldInterviews.com.

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Posted in Fiction, Flash Fiction

In Search of Life #FlashFiction

“You’re such a liar.”

“Shut up. You have NO idea what you’re talking about.” I didn’t care if he did or not, but I wasn’t in the mood for anything he had to say right now.

There was only one problem with that. “That empty hole in your chest, the cold-hollow ache in your bones like a cancer…you know what it is.”  He just never knows when to shut up and didn’t give a crap about my moods.

“This is none of your business, so for the last time shut it.” If I clenched my teeth any tighter they would break.

“This is just as much mine as yours. I’m just not the coward here who’s afraid to admit the truth.”  I hated him. I wasn’t a coward, I just didn’t want to hurt again. I didn’t want the tidal waves to come pounding back in where her love had left from me.

“Ever think about what-ifs?” I didn’t expect or wait for an answer. “I live on them. They are my protein that keep me alive.”

“I know that, Walker. You think that’s news to me? You think I don’t know about your every feeling of dread at every wasted second without her?” If anyone would know it was him.

“I’m tired. This tornado of emotions I live, not knowing when the next moment will be…it hurts.”

“Which hurts worse…pain of never knowing or the pain after the joy of having her for those few brief moments? That is what you need to decide.”

“I already made my decision. Don’t you know that, Mr. Know-Everything? Would I be like this if I hadn’t? Do you think I could live without her…even if having her is for only minutes at a time?” I hated him. Why couldn’t he let me wallow in my self pity?

“I know all of that. I’m here to keep reminding you of it…lest you forget it.” I slammed the notebook shut.

READ ME NOW!

I stared at those words on the cover–words I had been reading for years.

Gripping the notebook in both hands, I tore it in half with only the binding keeping the two pieces together. The small trash can beside the hotel bed rattled and rocked from the fall of the notebook into it.

I didn’t want to read any more.

Walker: In Search of Life by Ronovan

(Tales from my drafts folder. I rarely share my fiction. I know good writing when I see it. But with limited computer abilities right now I thought I would show you why I review books and do interviews.)

© Copyright-All rights reserved by ronovanwrites.wordpress.com 2015

Posted in Flash Fiction

A Cry For Help Ignored.

Christian Flash Weekly Event #40 From Christian Weekly.

A Flash Fiction Challenge.

Prompt and Word Limits for Event #40
Length: 1-150 words
Prompt: John 11:35 (KJV)
Jesus wept.

“I’m so confused,” Charlie said.

“Sup, man?” I asked.

“Dude, I just don’t know anymore. Parents have been dogging me about everything. I don’t think I can take it much longer.” His hands kept clenching and unclenching.

“Not a problem, man. You know all parents are like that. They just trying to get to you. Maybe trying to help too, in their own weird way,” I said. I laughed a little, hoping to lighten the mood.

“It ain’t funny. You know I ain’t going to put up with it much longer. I can’t take it. I gotta do something.”

I knew he wasn’t joking. “Dude, just chill til tomorrow. I gotta go now, but text me later, okay?”

“Sure, man. Yeah.”

In the car Mom could tell I was upset. “What’s wrong Jeremy?”

“Nothing, Mom.”

“We have to be at church early before Youth Group tonight, so we’re going to just run through somewhere for fast food, okay?”

“Sure, Mom.”

Jesus wept.

 

As a former youth pastor I tried so hard to show my kids how to reach out to others, how to share their faith, how to talk to people, how to simply invite someone to the Youth Group on Wednesdays to have some fun and ease into church. It was a frustrating time. We even went out and visited people in the hopes of making a connection. But it was difficult when the Youth didn’t know where their friends lived. But we still tried. Tuesdays we would load up the van and go visiting and Wednesdays we would gather for our studies and activities.

It wasn’t just about more kids in church that was my biggest concern. It was about helping them. I knew there were dozens, hundreds of kids out there needing help. But with a church body that wasn’t as a whole as concerned about young people, the lack of empathy was absorbed by the youth themselves. Yes, there are many who care but too many that don’t.

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Posted in Fiction, Flash Fiction

A beauty so high.

Stoneworth didn’t give a fig about life. As far as he was concerned it could end in a breath and that would be just fine with him. He had lived long enough and life was a bunch of bull. Every step he took he stepped in a big pile of a reminder of it.

“Mr. Stoneworth, may I have your autograph, please,” said the young girl.

Stoneworth looked at the book and pen offered. Gritting his teeth he put on his best fake grin and signed one of his somehow formulaic but popular mysteries. If he thought it all was crap then why did he care if the girl was happy or not? Perhaps he didn’t want it to be all bad, maybe he wanted a sign of something good. Or maybe he wanted to pay bills until the crap buried him.

He left the tip on the table and then the cafe behind. His burger was not even half eaten. It was not a normal bull day.

It was worse. It was like rodeo week and he was the head scooper.

He should have stayed home and eaten the frozen Chinese dinner. It would match the frozen ears he had from the early winter wind. His work was now going to suck the rest of the day and night and he was going to be hungry. Any flow of plot he had was gone. And he had a deadline. Ten days or death would be knocking at his door. Either death or his agent. They looked about the same.

His apartment smelled like burnt hot chocolate, not coffee. He had tried the stuff but couldn’t drink it until it had enough milk, sugar and chocolate syrup in it to taste like hot chocolate. Why waste the time and the money? Just cut out the middle men.

He looked at the wall thermostat and the screwed on lock box. Freaking landlord. 65 degrees. He left his coat on and turned the small electric heater on. He let it oscillate just to have some noise in the place.

Even though he knew his purpose of the day was ruined he sat down at the laptop anyway. The 1 appeared at the top of one tab of the many opened in his browser for research on ancient Central American civilizations. His thoughts improved with hope.

He had mail. The list of songs were long and not quite his usual fare but he listened. She had sent them. He didn’t listen to much music. It caused headaches. But from her, the headaches didn’t happen. They inspired him.

My beauty has given a gift to me

One I don’t often have time to take

It could not be more sweet and dear

Unless the music her own fingers did make

How is one so beautiful

How is she in my life

If by chance life did change

“Stoneworth!”

He looked up at the ghastly form approaching. He stared through it. Why would it not leave him be? The ghost of a past that was no longer his. All he wanted was the now, the reality of what is.

He did not need what was the never was. He closed his eyes and pressed his hands together until his fingers turned white. The music started again in his ears.

“Worthless! Invalid!”

Stoneworth moved his hands to his ears and pressed hard. Forcing the music in. Driving the hate away.

The pain seared through his brain and down his spine. Cackling laughter reached his now unprotected ears. He slowly sank to the floor unable to control his movements. His body arched as spasms began.

Laughter.

Music.

Laughter.

He shut his eyes tight. Focus on her eyes, those brown eyes, focus. The cackling continued. The pain continued. But suddenly he did not care. He felt warmth touch his skin. A smile crossed his face. It didn’t matter. There was a light he could see now for the first time. And music. He was climbing higher and higher. His dream was there, higher than he had ever been before. A beauty like he would never witness again.

**

“What happened?”

“I don’t know officer. I came in when he missed his deadline for a book he was writing and found him.”

“Did you turn that heater on?”

“No officer. It was already going. I moved it away from his face though. It was really close.”

“Well, it looks like a heart attack.”

“He always said that’s how he would go.”

“Well, this looks like another case he solved before he ever got a chance to write it.”

stoneworth

Ronovan

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