Demons and Acid Don't Mix - #FridayFlash

My story, Demons and Acid Don't Mix, can be found at The New Flesh today.

The Devil's Game - #FridayFlash

The place was crowded, the lights dim. Old world elegance oozed from the inside of the bar, not at all what Cate expected from its non-descript exterior. She wondered if she had the right place. This didn’t seem like her friend’s style.

Her entrance went unnoticed, something she wasn’t use to. All eyes focused on the billiard game happening in the middle of the floor. Cate didn’t know much about pool, but the charming man with the easy grin must be winning. The others looked worried.

Cate studied the man in the expensive silk suit. She found herself unable to look away. He glanced at her—spoke a word of welcome. His voice was smooth whiskey tumbled over shards of ice. The ribbon of smoke from the cigar he held enticed her to follow its trail to his side.

He completed his shot as she reached him, three balls in the corner pocket. His opponent was visibly sweating as he watched the table.

“Hold this for me.”

He handed Cate his cigar with a smile. Its heady aroma wrapped Cate in its spell. She took a drag without knowing why.

“I’m Lucian,” he said and hit the final ball in the pocket.

The ground opened below his opponent, fiery souls billowed forth and consumed the man where he stood. Cate backed away but the crowd closed in around her, rapacity written on their faces. Her head spun from the cigar smoke.

“Are you ready to play, Cate?”

Lucian’s voice caressed her, locked her in place. She looked back at the door where she’d entered just moments ago. It had disappeared.

“If I win, will you let me leave?” Her voice sounded thick to her ears.

“No.” Lucian’s grin took on a wicked cast. “But I’ll buy you a drink if you do. I have to tell you though, I’ve never lost.”

©2009 Laura Eno

The Great American Teach-In

I had the honor of speaking at an elementary school today for the Great American Teach-In on what it’s like to be a writer. The two half-hour sessions, one for a third grade class and one for fifth grade, taught me as much as the information I imparted.

I focused on perseverance, because it’s necessary no matter what they choose to do in life. My motto was, embrace it even when it sucks because that’s the only way to learn. They enjoyed my use of the word ‘suck.’ I found out later that the teachers are trying to ban it from their vocabulary. Oops – go Laura!

We also worked with a story prompt. It had a monster in it, naturally. The kids had a good time with it. I tapped into a rich imaginative vein with the fifth graders. Not so much with the third graders. I would have thought it to be the other way around. Here is the story prompt. What would your next sentence be?


A little girl in a red sweater and a monster walked down the dirt road. The monster started to sneeze but he didn’t have a tissue.

The Bus Stops Here - #FridayFlash

This is a minor character from my NaNoWriMo WIP.


The last of the group made their way up the three steps and onto the bus. Thomas shut the door and studied the happy faces behind him from the rearview mirror. Like kids on a field trip. He hoped he could still summon that kind of excitement at their age. The youngest of the lot was 75.

The Sun and Fun Retirement Home had chartered this trip up the mountain for a day at the casino on the reservation. Thomas would earn time and a half as their driver. Maybe a few tips as well. He really needed the money but, after a restless night with little sleep, he didn’t feel well. In fact, the pleasant greetings from his passengers annoyed him. Nothing was fine about today, as one old woman had remarked. Nothing was fine about his life, when it came right down to it.

The gears ground as Thomas shoved the old bus into first, pulling away from the curb with a slight sway and shudder. As they made their way up the hill, he tuned out the excited chatter, turned his thoughts to Jenny instead.

The bitch didn’t deserve both house and alimony – she was the one who left. Normally, he didn’t spend time dwelling on the inequities, but for the last few days he couldn’t seem to think of anything else.

The dark mood started right after the accident in the store, when he got the stitches. Thomas brushed his fingertips against the bandage gingerly, although it didn’t hurt. He still had a headache; nothing seemed to touch it, not even the pills the doc prescribed for him. He hadn’t told his employer either, since the bottle said “do not drive.”

None of that had anything to do with his present state of mind. On any given day, Thomas could stuff his depression into a dark corner, ignore it and move on. Not so for the last four days, when an unfocused revenge dogged his every step.

As the bus wound around the last steep curve to reach the top, clarity breached Thomas’ thoughts. He knew what he had to do. The bitch wouldn’t get any more alimony out of him.

Laughter gave way to stunned silence in those first few moments. The bus jerked hard to the right. The tires left the pavement. Then the screaming started.

Thomas watched the view change from clouds to rocks as the bus nosedived on its way to a flip. His mad grin widened. He thought about the time he executed a belly flop in much the same way. It had been painful, too. Then his head hit the wheel. Thomas missed the rest of the action.

The bus didn’t make it all the way to the bottom. It landed on the road some 1500 feet below the top. No one lived to give thanks for that small mercy. The resultant explosion took care of that.


©2009 Laura Eno

Timing is Everything: Flashes in the Dark

I have a story up at Flashes in the Dark called Timing is Everything.
Many thanks to Lori Titus over at FitD for featuring it.
I hope you'll stop over there and give it a read. Enjoy!

The Five O'Clock Tram - #FridayFlash

“Sally, I told you to quit fussing with your sweater.”

“But the sleeves aren’t long enough.” Sally tugged at the bright red knit one more time in a futile attempt to stretch it. Her mother ignored her complaints and hustled her out of the car. The huge parking lot was filling up fast for opening day of the new amusement park.

The “Gateway to Other Worlds” promised live exhibits of creatures from other planets. Since that was impossible, speculation was rife about what they could have planned. The concepts had been kept under tight security so no one knew what to expect. One of the planners was a famous comic book author so rumor had it that he designed animatronics for the exhibits.

Seven-year-old Sally forgot her quarrel with her sweater as she was awed by one exhibit after another. They watched tiny Gorn at play, their purple fuzz dusted by mint green snowflakes that fell inside the protective dome. Another had giant butterfly creatures that came up to the window, looking like they wanted to speak.

Multiple domes portrayed life on a dozen different planets, their habitats authentically reproduced according to the guides.

At the end of the long day, Sally and her mother boarded the tram that ran through a series of tunnels, showing visitors the domes from the backside. It stopped in one dark tunnel and the voice system came on.

“Please exit to your right for the tram to the parking lot. We hope you’ve enjoyed your stay with us.”

A boy and his father stood in front of a dome, watching creatures that looked a bit like woolly mammoths. Their guide pointed to his watch and announced that it was five o’clock, the creatures feeding time. On cue, a chute opened, spilling several people to the ground. The boy watched a girl in a red sweater try to run before the mammoth bit her in half. Now her legs matched the color of her sweater.

“Those animatronics sure are realistic looking,” his father murmured.

The guide smiled at them. “Aren’t they just?”

©2009 Laura Eno

Midnight Swim - #FridayFlash

Marsha was having a blast at the Halloween party. She and her friend, Sue, had pre-arranged a signal if either one needed to be rescued but it didn’t look like they’d need it. The music thrummed in her soul, the booze flowed freely and the costumes were fabulous. Marsha felt like a million dollars here.

When Sue had suggested crashing the exclusive party of the hottest horror film director in town, Marsha was sure they’d be thrown out at the door. Instead, the director himself greeted them, warmly ushering them inside.

His vampire costume was to die for, probably costing thousands of dollars for the authenticity. Everybody here sparkled in their expensive clothing, although not all were in costume. Marsha’s little devil getup was cheap, but it made the most of her assets. In the dark, no one would know it didn’t have a designer label. Come Monday, when she put her waitress uniform back on, she’d have some awesome memories of this night.

“Would you care to dance?”

The sexy voice belonged to someone in a death costume. As Marsha melted into his arms, she tried to think of which star he might be. The voice wasn’t familiar, but so many actors modulated their speech.

After a while, they drifted out to the balcony, overlooking the Hollywood hills. Marsha felt a bit tipsy, drinking more than she normally would. The night sky opened before them with a thousand stars, the air vibrated with promise.

“Do you choose to be with me?”

The voice whispered in her ear, inviting her to share his exciting life. Why not? Marsha thought. If I don’t like him tomorrow I’ll just tell him I’m a waitress. That ought to send him running. She giggled at the image of death fleeing from her.

“Sure.” It came out a bit slurred but understandable.

“Why don’t we go for a swim.”

An Olympic-sized pool sat directly below the balcony. Marsha had been so busy gazing at the stars that she hadn’t noticed it before.

“Okay.” She turned to go find a way downstairs, but death picked her up and threw her over the railing.

Marsha broke the surface, sputtering and glad to have survived the fall. Death floated next to her, not a smudge in his make-up.

“Is your make-up waterproof?” She gazed into the blackest eyes she’d ever seen. He hadn’t looked this scary earlier.

“My dear, I’m not wearing a costume. Are you ready for your swim?”

Marsha’s confusion quickly progressed to terror as she sank endlessly, deeper than the pool’s depth. When she broke the surface again, she stared into the eyes of the ferryman.

The police ruled Marsha’s death accidental, a broken neck as she fell over the railing and hit the concrete walk in the garden below. Someone reported seeing her just minutes before it happened, standing alone and swaying to the music. It was determined that she was a gatecrasher, nobody worthy of a headline. The party played on.

©2009 Laura Eno

Carnival Time - #FridayFlash

“Have a good time and call me when you’re ready to be picked up.”

“I will, Mom.” Ricky dodged his mother’s attempt to kiss him in front of his friend Jimmy. Jeesh. It was bad enough that he had to go to the school carnival instead of trick-or-treating like the rest of his friends; did she have to embarrass him too?

“There’s just baby stuff here,” Jimmy said.

Ricky was inclined to agree as he looked around. Their mothers had decided that this was safer than going around the neighborhood knocking on doors. He was willing to bet that they were the only two ten-year-olds dressed in costume. Everyone else was much younger. Come Monday, they’d be the laughing stock at school.

“We’re doomed.”

Some kid in a bed sheet kept following them around as they made their way down the line of booths passing out candy. Ricky nudged Jimmy and whispered in his ear. Jimmy grinned as they walked over to a quiet spot between the buildings. The bed sheet ghost followed them.

“Okay. Why are you following us?” Ricky said.

The ghost didn’t answer, just stood there fidgeting as he looked up at them out of the two eyeholes. Jimmy tugged the sheet off, revealing a small, grimy boy.

There was something weird about this kid, Ricky thought.

“Say something, creep.”

The kid smiled, a rather ghastly-looking occurrence, as he spoke.

“Braiiiinnsss…”

©2009 Laura Eno

The Perfect Diet Plan

Someone sent me this diet plan and it's the first one I've seen that I'd honestly be able to follow on a regular basis. I figured what better way to bond with my friends than to share it with you?

Breakfast

1 grapefruit
1 slice whole wheat toast
1 cup skim milk

Lunch

1 small portion lean, steamed chicken
1 cup spinach
1 cup herbal tea
1 Hershey's kiss

Afternoon Tea

1 The rest of the Hershey Kisses in the bag
1 tub of Hagen-Daaz ice cream with chocolate chips

Dinner

4 glasses of wine (red or white)
2 loaves garlic bread
1 family size supreme pizza
3 Snickers Bars

Late Night Snack

1 whole Sarah Lee cheesecake (eaten directly from the freezer)

Remember: Stressed spelled backward is desserts.

Delivered Fresh - #FridayFlash

Lorraine scrubbed at the brown stains splattered against the wall and sighed. She’d have to repaint…again. They weren’t washing off. Another Halloween night full of mayhem. Beastly neighborhood children roamed the streets in their costumes, up to no good. They ran up to doors, demanding treats. If no one answered, the kids threw eggs…or worse.

The kids avoided Lorraine’s house the rest of the year, believing it to be haunted. An old iron fence blocked off the patch of overgrown grass, giving the impression of a cemetery at first glance. Add in the peeling paint on the weathered sideboards and one might suspect that vampires lived here. Lorraine snorted in amusement.

The house had stood for 150 years now, in much the same condition as when it had first been built. No modern conveniences had been added; the frayed lace curtains were original as well. Lorraine preferred it that way, living life at a slower pace, not caught up in the frantic activity of those around her.

One night each year though, the kids would venture into her yard, wanting to see the ‘vampire house’ from the inside. She would oblige the brave soul who came alone, patiently explaining that she was, in fact, a demon and not a bloodsucker.

The holiday was rather convenient for her, actually. 150 years ago, she’d had to go hunting for her yearly sacrifices. Now they came to her, delivered fresh to her doorstep.

©2009 Laura Eno