Zombie Short Scene: Infected Anonymous

(And the exploration begins. This is a little gross, so if you’re weak of heart, grab a barf bag!)

When I stepped in the door of Rita’s Deli, a bell rung overhead. Ahhhhh. What heaven is this. I dropped by here every three days and spent a good bit on breakfast, lunch and dinner. Rita had the freshest meats and best cold cuts in town and she didn’t make me feel bad for what I was.

“Hey Rita!” I greeted her with a smile and peered over the glossy meats displayed behind clean glass. “Could I get two beef shoulders, four rib eyes, six flat irons, two sirloins…” Hmm. Bacon or sliced meats? I tapped my foot for a second. “And… and a party platter of your cold cuts, could you do that for me, love?” She grinned and began cutting portions of brown paper in an industrial sized cutter.

“Not a problem!” Her blond hair was pretty and her skin was pale, yet her blue eyes were sharp and piercing. I took a seat at one of the tables near the front window and watched her bag up my order. With a grace, she placed the large brown bag on the counter and beckoned me over with a cock of her chin. “You’re total comes to $82.25.” As I dug out cash from my back pocket, Rita slid her gloves off skillfully and tossed them into the trash beside the register. I handed her the cash and grabbed the bag. “You can keep the change, love.” She almost blushed. I saw it. Just a little rouge met her cheeks, just barely. As I walked away, she called out.

“I stuck some thick sliced bacon in with the cold cuts. Some pig left it lying around.” She waved at me with pink colored nails and grinned.

She was the only one that knew who I was and frankly, I think she liked me because I kept her business open. I’m sure I was her biggest client, and there was no way around it. She caught me the first time I entered her store. I was practically drooling on the glass cased in the beautiful meats. I was new too. Newly cured, that is. I was one of the last to contract the disease and I was one of the few that was cured of it. It turned me into one of those “brainsssss” zombies from the movies. I’m ashamed because I don’t remember anything but the searing pain of “dying” and the horrific feeling of being brought back. One syringe of the cure, a two week coma and I was human again. Luckily, they said I wasn’t infected for very long, just a couple hours, but they did say I got loose and hurt people. Most people who were infected, they said, did a lot more damage and lost more dignity than I did.


Well anyway, I’m required to go to IA, Infected Anonymous. It was mainly for the people who began to remember things, which came a few months after being cured. It was horrible. These people can remember biting necks, tearing ligaments, scooping eyes from their family member’s skulls like eggs. Me…I can’t remember a thing and I’m supplementing it with a heavy dose of herbal remedy to prolong my amnesia. A la marijuana. The post infected have a free pass to as much medication as we need. Hell. They want us to become functioning members of society again. I was thankful because most of “us” were murders with pleas of insanity and lucky we weren’t shot on the spot.

Fortunately, though the only thing I took from the situation was an abnormal urge for raw meats. Hence the deli visits twice a week.

When I got to my car, I sat in the front seat with the bag in my lap and carefully pulled a rib eye out with a napkin. I sniffed the edge and inhaled that metallic organic smell. I took a bite and savoured the taste. It was so…tender. It separated easily from the rest of the cut due to the thick marbling of fat, which is why it was my favorite. Tender, fresh, bloody. I licked the drips of blood from the edge like ice cream. I might like my meat raw but I don’t like a mess, and I most certainly don’t like smelling like I used to be a zombie. Come on now…

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No Second Chances

(Writer’s note: This isn’t the finished piece of my Portfolio 3 for my Creative Writing class, but this is definitely my favorite version of my main story. This version is rather raw and unedited so please excuse the couple mistakes and awkwardness.)

Michael slid the paring knife from the wooden block on the counter and looked at the blade. Sharp and metallic. It would do just fine. On the cutting board laid several oversized strawberries recently rinsed under cool water. The red bled into the wood of the board. He picked up one, inspected it and nodded. Placing it back on the board, Michael placed the edge of the knife gently on the skin of the fruit. With a flick, the knife slid through the flesh of the berry like butter. The top leaves popped off and fell into the sink. After he had cut the tops off all of the strawberries, he tossed them into a food processor for quick spin.

It was a simple process he went through on each anniversary. Cleaning the fruit was always his favorite part to the whole thing. Washing the impurities off of something so beautiful and delicious. What’s more satisfying than that? With the strawberry puree covered and fridged, Michael stirred some angel hair pasta into some boiling water. Alfredo sauce simmered in a pot on the opposite oven element. It tasted spicy with a hint Cajun seasoning, red bell peppers and bacon pieces. It was a masterpiece of a sauce he had perfected over his years of taste testing and trials. As a chef for nineteen years at a little place called Une Petit Bol, one tended to learn the ins and outs of good cooking.

The celebration honored his wife, Marianne. They had been married for four years. It had been a good four years too. Starting out with a honeymoon in Paris that took them all the way to Greece and back to the United States. It was a beautiful trip full of good things. Good food. Good smells. Good sex.

Michael hesitated for a moment, spoon in hand. Good sex. It had been good sex. He thought back to the time when he and Marianne sneaked from the hotel suite they were honeymooning in to the lapping waves just below their window. There, they made love for the first real time. Unburdened, unbound, free love. Under the moon and the stars they were alone with no one to bother them. But now…

She had been a sweet girl when he loved her. Her long blond hair seemed to give her a look that took him back to her youth. Rarely brushed to perfection, her curls swirled over her shoulders effortlessly. They were golden like ambrosia. Her blue eyes matched her hair’s flawlessness. Deep crystal blue eyes stared back at him when ever he looked at her longingly. It was the lips though that really got him. They blossomed like roses in a winter storm. Plump, gorgeous lips. If you gazed downward you could tell she took care of her skin. She had an porcelain complexion that claimed no blemish. The very touch of her skin would send goosebumps up his spine and spin every thought from his head. If her fingers touched his, the whole day would disappear.

Michael began to stir the sauce again and snapped himself back to reality. That way of viewing her was over with. He longed to be ignorant. It was bliss, wasn’t it? He longed to have not smelled the odor on the back of her neck one morning. The scent of another man. Some cheap cologne that he would have never bought himself. Thirty- three days. It had been thirty- three days since he first smelt that scent on her. There had been other clues though. Earlier mornings to worker, later nights away from home that there were no reasons for. There wasn’t more work to be finished. She was a bad liar and he could taste it every time she kissed him in the last thirty three days.

There seemed to be nothing wrong with their relationship. Things had settled into a nice routine. Wake, work, home, eat, sleep. Michael stepped back from the stove and thought. Maybe it was the routine? Was she bored? Boredom doesn’t merit whoreishness though.

Michael grimaced at the thought. Tonight’s dinner would make up for all of her secret misgivings. And as if thinking of her lured her home, the door opened and Marianne walked through in red heels. She had on a maroon dress that showed her curves and a black headband that pulled her hair away from her face. She closed the door behind her and smiled over at Michael.

“Hey, honey.” Her heels clicked as she crossed the kitchen tile to him. She gently kissed him on the cheek. He could smell it. Again. It was different this time. More… more musky and strong. He gripped the edge of the counter to repress any reaction. How was he going to bring this up to her? He liked that she was happy but hated her for it at the same time. He liked that she was a sexual dynamo, but it felt dirty at the same time. Knowing that other men were putting their paws on her disturbed him.

“Hey.” He touched the back of her arm when she leaned in for the kiss.

“What cha cooking?” She whiffed the air and smiled at the familiar scent.

“Cajun Alfredo pasta with red peppers. And strawberry sorbet for dessert.”

“Mmm, that sounds delicious!” Marianne said as she sifted through the pile of mail she had carried in with her.

Michael stared at her for a moment. How should he do it? Her lips… as they moved they seemed like slugs crawling across a stone floor, leaving a trail of disgusting slime of lies behind when ever she spoke.

“How was your day?” Michael removed the sauce from the heat and placed it on a cool element. He could burn her. Just toss the sauce right on her see what happens? But that might not kill her and he’d have to deal with her being sad again. No. That won’t work.

“It was good!” She got up and tossed some of the junk mail in the trashcan. “I met my new boss today.” And by met she meant hand job.

“What happened to your old boss?” As he spoke, Michael leaned over and grabbed a bottle of wine from the top of the refrigerator. Using the corkscrew, he popped he cork out and poured two glasses. Holding the bottle, he imagined what it would look like crashing over her head. Would it break? Or just donk her on the skull? That would be unsatisfying…

“Oh, he quit. Some internal affair or something.” She graciously took the large glass of wine and took a sip. She didn’t even smell it. No swirling. Jesus Christ. How was he even attracted to her in the first place? She used to stop to smell the roses.

“How was your day?” She looked up at him as he moved around the kitchen.

“It was okay.” He tasted the sauce. Mmm. Perfection. “I hired a new chef. He’s pretty good.” He reached out, testing the water. “You’d like him.”

“Really?” She quirked a brow, hearing the underlying beckoning in his voice.

“Yeah! He makes these signature chocolate truffles.” He watched the furrow in her brow soften. Phew. She hadn’t been caught. Right…

“Oh yummm.” She stood up from the table and flipped off her left heel. It landed under the dinner table. That could be useful. Heel to the jugular. Nahh. That won’t work either. Too much of a mess. She took off her other shoe and tossed it under the table next to the other.

The knife. He eyed it on the counter, still dripping with strawberry juice and seeds.

“Dinner’s ready.” He lured her over with the promise of food. She came, predictably. With one step, he blocked her from the stove and embraced her.

“I want to let you know…” She hugged him back genuinely. “that I know what you’ve been doing.” She stiffened in his grip. He held a bit tighter. “You’ve been going around behind my back.” She tried to pull away but he kept her close in a hug so she couldn’t see his face. “You’ve been fucking other men. At least two that I know of.” He smelled her neck like an animal. “And this is a new one.” His inhale left cold condensation on the nape of her neck.

“Michael.” She put both of her hands on his chest in order to push away, but he backed her up against the counter. He centered his strength in his hips so he could hold her still and grab the knife from the cutting board.

“It’s been thirty- three days.” He pressed the edge of the blade against her skin.

“Michael, oh my god.” She now knew her situation was dire. “Stop it Michael!” She struggled against him, like an antelope in a lion’s grasp. “I’m sorry.” She began to cry. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” He pressed the blade into her skin. She screamed. He felt her warm sticky blood run over his hand. It was satisfying. To feel her lies stream over his hand down the back of her red dress.

“Yes I am!” She struggled more, driving the knife deeper in between her ribs. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She gasped for air and began to cough.

“That’s your lung collapsing.” He sneered and pulled the knife from her back, tossing it loudly in the sink. He stepped back, releasing her from his grip and watched her slide down the cabinets. Her chest heaved and she had no breath to speak.

Michael knelt down close to her and lifted her chin as she slowly drowned, internally on her own blood. “You did this to yourself.” She gripped at his knee weakly and begged with her eyes. “You should have just told me you weren’t happy.” He brushed her hand off his leg. It hit the floor floppingly.

Michael stood, and stepped over her pooling blood, making sure not to track it all over the kitchen floor. He strained the angel hair, smothered a plate with Alfredo and mixed the noodles effortlessly. He took his plate and glass of wine over to the dinner table and sat down at the head of the table. While taking the first bite, he looked over at Marianne slumped against the cabinets. He watched her lose consciousness. He took another bite and sipped the expensive wine.

“No second chances.” Michael wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin.

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Strawberry Sorbet: One Scene

 Her dress was a fine ribbon that wrapped around her delicate figure. Cerulean in color and silky to the touch. She stood out in a crowd. James sat adjacent to her and touched her knee with his hand under the table.. He smiled. Dessert had just arrived and the thought of touching food as beautiful as his wife seemed like a sin in itself. They both were silent when the server placed the square plate on the linen table cloth. Two scoops of Strawberry sorbet were flecked green, with basil. A sugar balsamic glaze was drizzled generously over the two pink scoops and the rest of the plate, adding a dark hue to the playful sorbet.

James was the first to pick up his fork. He tentatively sliced the sorbet and lifted the small bite to Sarah’s lips. She coaxed the fork into her mouth with her tongue and closed her eyes when the taste hit her senses. “Mmm.” Was all she could muster.

James cut a portion for his own pleasure and lifted it to his nose. He could smell the fresh basil mingle with the balsamic. When he tasted the strawberries, he was taken back to their first kiss.

Strawberry lip gloss, classical music, small murmur in the back ground. The whole scene was the same, yet they didn’t know each other during their initial kiss. Sarah was a capricious, wild thing. She walked up to an unsuspecting James in the very same restaurant and dropped her clutch. Happily, James picked it up from the floor and handed it back to her, their hands touched briefly. She continued on to the ladies room, leaving James begging for more interaction. He brazenly left his table, at which he was not the only one sitting, and pushed open the ladies room door. She waited there, just next to the door and pushed him against the wall aggressively. Strawberry lip gloss moistened her lips, classical music juxtaposed their bad behavior, and small murmurs in the background were never heard.

James opened his eyes when he heard something fall on to the ground. He looked down and noticed Sarah’s small purse half open on the fine carpet.

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Ms. Mistake

(A point of view change assignment. This is the other side of the story “One Step Forward” https://inspiredlover.wordpress.com/2011/09/27/one-step-forward/)

I stood in front of the mirror and buttoned up my mint green pinstriped shirt. I had it cleaned and pressed this morning so there would be no signs of wrinkles or sex. I sent my khakis in for the same treatment and they came back nice and fresh and almost too perfect. I slipped them on over my black socks. I had a few minutes to spare, so I focused more on looking like I had just stepped off a plane rather than left a hotel room.

I was a smart man, I knew that… and what I did last night was the stupid. I got drunk. Plastered, wasted, shitfaced. I went home with this woman. I don’t think you could call her hotel room home, but whatever. I could smell her on my skin. Her perfume. Her sweat. Her screams of passion from the night before still rolled over my skin like the deep base from a concert speaker.

“Well don’t you just look handsome.” The owner of the silky voice leaned against the door jam and was as sexy. I couldn’t deny that. My drunk goggles certainly didn’t deter beauty. She wore one of my t shirts. And only one of my t-shirts. Her tan slender legs were super model length. She was a fine, fine woman.

I turned to her and smirked. I went over to her, put my hand on the small of her back and pressed her close against me. I kissed her deep, intending on taking her breath away. And I succeeded when I loosened my grip and she started to fall backward before I tightened it again.

“Good Lord. You better go or I’m not gonna let you ever leave.” She playfully stroked my inner thigh as she pulled away, heading toward the closet. Her butt cheeks peeked from underneath my shirt and tempted me to stay.

I slipped into my shoes, packed what was left of my rolling suitcase and kissed my mistake goodbye. As I headed to the door, someone knocked. “Room service!” A woman’s voice called out. I opened the door quite carefree and smiled at the lady at the door. And then stopped smiled. And then dropped the handle to my suitcase.

My girlfriend. She wore a black dress. If I recall correctly, it was the one she wore to my father’s funeral about a year ago.

“Oh. Hey!” I automatically put my body against the door and closed it a bit with my head poking outside the crack. 

“Oh hey?” She furrowed her brows. “OH HEY?!” She pressed on the door but I didn’t give.

“Michael, who’s there?” Ms Mistake from inside the room asked playfully. Goddamn it. “It’s uh–“

I felt the air move before I felt her fist hit my face. I stumbled backwards and fell over my suitcase. The door creaked open and I watched Mary stalk down the carpeted hallway towards the elevators. My nose was bleeding now and I could feel the hot mess drip onto my freshly cleaned shirt.

“Mary! Wait!” I clamored to my feet and ran out the door. I caught up to her just as the elevator doors opened. I grabbed her shoulder to turn her around but she pulled away just as fast and spun around to face me at a distance.

“You said you’d be late.” She stomped a red heeled foot on the maroon carpet. “Stupid. I’m so stupid.” She put a hand to her forehead. “I should have known that late meant you wanted to fuck another woman in the meantime.” She looked at me and shook her head. “I knew you were a waste of my time.” She back stepped into the elevator and jabbed one of the buttons. 

“Next time don’t give your mistress the house number…” She looked like she wanted to spit on me as the elevator doors closed.

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Fleece as White as Snow

He was eighteen years old when he got the idea to send the lamb after her. It was the perfect symbol of his undying love for her. Soft, cute, white and pure, the lamb would definitely catch her heart and when she opened the locket he was welding, she would definitely say yes to his proposal.
James sat at his desk under the light for hours before the necklace was complete with an etching of their names together on the back. Scooping up the jewelry, he swiveled in his chair and looked down at the little lamb sitting comfortable atop his pillow. It was a cute little thing, even for him he felt manly making goggly eyes and hugging it like a little girl would a pony. Its soft fur curled up at the ends just enough to fluff and its little eyes, black as the night, rivaled those of a kittens.

He sat down on his bed next to the lamb and petted its head before clasping the locket around its neck. He held the lamb up to inspect it and nodded. “You’re gonna win me the best prize I could ever win.” He nuzzled the little thing and set it down back on his pillow. “Only a few more minutes and then it’s your time to shine!”

James dressed himself in his usual attire. A dark blue collared shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbows, brown slacks with suspenders, and low heeled boots.

As he headed out the door, James scooped up the little lamb in one arm and his books in the other. University classes began in about twenty minutes and to initiate his plan, he had to intercept his lady of choice during her route to school.

He walked the sidewalks with a confidence. He would soon have the girl of his dreams in his arms and he’d finally be able to say she was his. And there she was. Taking a detour through the park on the way to class.

“There she is!” He knelt down and held the lamb close to his face, pointing at her in the distance. “There she is. Go get her!” James placed the lamb on the gravel path and watched it excitedly gallop after the only girl ahead of them. It was a lanky little thing. Its legs were longer than they should have been and its ears flopped over like a little puppy’s.

Mary looked gorgeous today. He took his eyes off the little creature barreling itself away from him to gaze at the beautiful woman before him. She wore a blue and gold dress that flowed in the wind. Metallic sandals glinted in the sun with every step she took. She wore red rimmed glasses that were framed by fiery red hair that spilled over her shoulders.

The flame of her hair matched her personality. She had always been James’ neighbor, from when they were little toddlers, all the way through high school. They were best friends and this made it a little harder for James to profess his love. It had gotten rather obvious as of late. Whenever they would go out, his stomach would fill with butterflies and not just those itty bitty purple ones that fly over fields of poppies. But monarchs and swallowtails. His hands would start shaking if they hugged. To him, Mary was the prettiest girl he had ever met.

The lamb stumbled up to her back legs and weaved its way in and out of her legs twice before she looked down. She squealed in delight and picked up the little thing with both hands. “You are the most adorable thing ever!” She held it close to her and rubbed her cheek against its face. “Oh my goodness.” James almost lost his balance as he got caught on her smile. She played with the lamb for almost ten minutes before putting it back down on the trail. “I have to go, little one. Class started….” She looked at her jeweled watch, “Six minutes ago!” Quickly, she kissed her finger and touch the nose of the lamb. “Bye bye!” She stood up and hurried in the opposite direction.

The baby stood there alone and looked back at James questioningly. “Go! Go after her!” James gestured to the fleeing beauty. When the lamb turned and ran after her, James stood up and followed.

They arrived on campus not to long after Mary did and James glimpsed her dress as she turned a corner into the building. Without hesitation, the lamb followed her right into the hallways.

James’ job was finished. He had hoped that she would see the locket on the trail, but it was so small so he planned for a little disruption. He took a seat on the bench in the courtyard just outside the building both had entered. It was nearly five minutes before he saw her emerge with the lamb in her hands.

“Baby lamb. You have to stay out here.” She placed it just outside the entrance of the school. She back up with her hands out, as if to keep the little four legged thing outside. “Stay.” She turned and walked back to class.

And satisfyingly, the lamb followed again. It was quicker this time, she came out with the lamb curled in her arms and laughed. “You aren’t allowed to be in—.” She saw it. James watched her squint her eyes and finger the locket. “What’s this?” She talked to the lamb as if it could answer her. She put the lamb on a bench near the entrance and sat down next to it.

James began to walk across the courtyard with his hands in his pockets. A slow walk, paced at the speed of her recognition as she read the locket. Mary unclasped the locket and turned it over in her hand. “What…” She read her name and James’. Instinctually, she looked up and spotted him.

James closed in and dropped to his knees at her’s. “I wanted to let you know that I love you.” He put an arm on her knees and petted the lamb and then looked back up at her. “I want you to know that.” He was nervous until he watched her lips curl up.

“I think I love you too.” She cupped James’ face with both hands and planted a big kiss on his lips. The lamb hopped off the bench and jumped around happily nuzzling James’ leg and Mary’s feet.

Mary had a little lamb that day because a man was in love.

(This is my version of the children’s song. Yet another Fiction Writing Assignment) 

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Stalling for Time

(My response to my class assignment, “A dramatic story with five instances of saying “No.” And yes, I paid a small homage to Battlestar Gallactica. Because I’m a geeky little girl.)

I was sitting in a nasty stall in a nasty bathroom in a concert hall I had never been to. It was a good concert I guess. Some disc spinner named DJ Frak. He mixed popular songs and spewed them through his speakers. And as he mixed, so did I.

My pink little thong sat on my feet, the sides of it mingling with the puddled floor. I didn’t care though. I just had to keep my knees steady so I didn’t spill anything on piss ridden tile. Pulling the straight edge from my bra, I was careful not to slice the side of my arm open.

The door slammed against the wall.

“Oh my god!!!!” One girl screeched as she fell into the sink in a fit of giggles. I could hear them move into the bowels of the bathroom like a heard of rhinoceroses.

“Do you have a lighter?” One of them asked another.


“Do you Beth?” She must have shaken her head because the one stomped her foot and almost fell over.

“I’m so drunk… all I want is to smoke.” She walked closer to my stall and she must have seen my feet. “Um! Excuse me! Do you have a lighter in there?”

My toes turned in like a duck’s. Just like they do every time someone startles me. I hunched over and stayed quiet.

“Hey, hello in there. Do you have a lighter? We could really use one.” I could hear the other girls leaning into the mirror popping pimples they didn’t have.

“Yeah, hold on.” I grabbed the lighter from the other side of my bra and stuck my hand under the door.

“AH! You’re the best!” She rushed the wheel and lit the flame, immediately lighting her joint. I think they passed it around in a circle because I could hear them cough consecutively.

“Thanks!” A hand popped under the door with the lighter and a still burning roach. I took both of them and dragged from the crumpled herb graciously.

They herded out of the bathroom soon after and left me alone. I continued.

Taking a small bag from my back pocket, which was now on the ground around my ankles alongside my panties, I emptied its contents on the small mirror I propped on my knobby knees. Snowflakes of gloriousness spilt onto the reflective surface.

The door slammed open again. This time though, the people invading my space were smushing their faces together. I heard labored breathing and they seemed to stop at the wall before claiming the stall right next to mine.

“Ohh baby. Yeah.” A pair of ridiculously high heels slid slightly into my stall from the left as the woman in them was lifted a couple inches off the ground.

“No. No. Oh yeah. No, right there. Yeaaha, Oh!!” And just like that they were done. I hadn’t even had time to widen my eyes before the quickest quicky of all time was finished. It was as if it was normal business. She cleared her throat, he did as well. I could hear some shuffling of clothes and one of them unlocked the door and both left the stall.

At the soft click of the main door closing, I hastened my pace.

I separated three lines of cocaine with the straight edge. When they were perfect, I pulled a makeshift straw from my heel and placed the end of it at the beginning of one of the lines. Mmmm. Cocaine.

I took the line, sniffed, rubbed my nose and waited about .25 seconds for it to hit. I leaned back on the toilet and propped myself against the wall.

The door. It opened. The air was thin now. My heart was beating and my brain was moving and the air seemed lighter.

Before there were any words, there was a spew. Splash and thump. Throw up! It must be! I sat up quickly, unfortunately spilling my last two lines on the floor and peeked over the stall door I occupied. Nope.

It was a girl. Two actually and they were fighting. Beer dripped down the far wall and both girls were on the floor, one straddling the other. Girl sex?? Oh my. No.

I was wrong again. The girl on top punched the girl below her and blood spurted out of her nose.

“That is my man, you slut!” She punctuated each word by grabbing her enemy’s hair and slamming her head on the floor.  The bloody girl stuck her hand in Straddlers face and squeezed hard.

“NO. He’s mine now!” Blood ran down her face as she pushed Straddler off and gained control. They were both half naked by now and they ran at each other. As they cat fought, a man with a STAFF shirt opened the main door.

“Hey you two! Stop now!” He hollered as he separated them with his big, beefy arms. They scratched at his arms like kittens. Another staff member came in and helped escort the reluctant girls out. It was silent for a moment before yet another hunky staff member came in.

“Anyone else in here?” His deep voice was dreamy. Hmm. Cocaine was… hmm. Made me mad horny.

“I—um. No?” Smartass to buy time. I slid the mirror and blade back into their hiding spots and spoke up. “Here! Yeah, sorry.” I tentatively unlocked the door and looked out at him.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” He was picking up the big pieces of the broken glass that was thrown.

I nodded and smiled as I bypassed him and headed for the door.

“Excuse me. Miss, did you see anything? When you were in here? Did you see who started the fight?”

“Me? Nope. I just came into pee.” I pulled the door open and joined the masses.

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One Step Forward

Ruby heels clicked slowly on a gum ridden sidewalk as the back of a beach tanned foot was quickly becoming blistered. Her legs, covered in nude hose, were recently shaven with strawberry daiquiri shaving cream that smelt just like the drink. A black hem started, about mid- thigh, just above a small birthmark shaped like a seventies decorative flower. The hem continued on to become a dress of a certain allure. Something that said professional wasn’t all she was. Sleek and slim, the body that filled the dress was just as appealing without it. Wrapping around an hourglass, the silky dress tapered off at the bust into a soft v- cut. She was sleeved to the elbow and carried a green polka dotted umbrella in her left hand, the handle dangling from her fingers. A multi gemmed necklace snuck through her cleavage and snaked around the back of her neck in a traditional clasp grip. Her hair fell messily around her face, and one could tell it was fixed nicely only hours before.

She moved one foot in front of the other as if it was no effort, but it was. Her name was Mary and it was hard for her to walk away from what she was walking away from but she did with a grace. On the outside it looked as if she had made the right decision, but on in the inside she was toying with the idea of running back to him. Why? WHY? To beat the shit out of him. That’s why. She gripped the handle of her umbrella harder and dug her lime nails into the palm of her hand, not quite drawing blood.

She felt the first raindrop on the back of her neck and she could have sworn that it sizzled and evaporated as soon as it touched her skin. The second drop splashed off the top of a yellow cab. Third bounced off a leaf. Mary quickened her pace and took refuge in a phone booth. She knew the way rain worked in New York City. It took about four or five rain drops before the curtain of water engulfed the block. And indeed, she was right. It was as if the whole sky had spilt a pitcher of water on one single area of the city.

(Just a small scene I submitted in my Creative Writing class under the assignment, “Rising Tension.”

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