Thursday, October 17, 2013

Shoes



He rubbed the leather gently, as if he held a small foot in his hands and not a shoe.

The toes were scuffed, though the soles were new and the heels unmarred.

With a stiff brush and an old rag, he worked in black polish until the leather gleamed softly, caressing the new-again footwear.

A young hand patted his shoulder, interrupting the reverie into which he had lapsed as he clutched the shoes.

"Grandpa?"

"These are yours now, sweetie. They're your size. They'll be perfect for your competition."

"They're lovely, thank you."

"You don't need to thank me, dear. Your grandmother would have wanted you to have them. They brought her luck when she danced competitively. Wear them for her. Wear them for me."

His granddaughter kissed his whiskery cheek and wrapped her arms around him.

"You still miss her after all this time?"

"Even after ten years, I still miss her. I haven't been able to dance without her."

“But you can dance with me now, Grandpa. I’m sure Grandma would want you to.”

He smiled as he stood and bowed to his partner.

“May I have this dance?”

_________
Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse 
Words: 190
Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 38
Photo: dixie_law via Flickr | video prompt: This Dance by Garth Brooks via Veoh

Thursday, October 10, 2013

Dance


Sweaty and hot, your hands gripped me at the prescribed places, like hands on a clock at three p.m.

We stumped slowly in a tightly defined but unmarked circle on the gymnasium floor, our bodies stiff and held apart though drawn together.

Feet struggling to avoid each other, we were pained not only by the foreign position but the oddness of our shoes.

Friends giggled at the periphery, happy and nervous for us, reflecting our feelings like the mirrored ball above.

Eyes darting here and there, we did not dare look at each other lest we break down and cry, or laugh about this strange new world.

But now, so many years later, we have become easy and free, unconstrained by the expectations of others.

We spin and whirl like doves at dusk, comforted and comfortable in the dance that is us.
_________
Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse 
Words: 143
Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 37
Photo prompt: origin unknown

Thursday, September 19, 2013

Knifed


She appeared unaware of his presence; he’d finally snuck up on her.

He stalked up behind her, pressing a sudden kiss to her bare shoulder.

No sign of surprise betrayed her; the knife continued rhythmically through the carrot before her.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to disturb a woman wielding a knife?”

“Hmph. What’s for dinner?”

Snick-snick-snick continued the blade along the maple board.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to ask a woman that question upon arrival?”

“Hmm. Fine. Must be that time of the month.”

As if the earth had suddenly shifted and risen up to meet his head, he found himself flat on his back. Snick-snick went the knives which pierced the floor on either side of his head, just missing his ears.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to say that to a woman?”

Sweat broke out on his lip as she peered into the mirror-finish of the butcher’s knife, checking the arch of her brow as she waited.

“I’m sorry, dear. Let me start over, please? Did you have a nice day? And can I help you with dinner?”

“That’s better. Please set the table.”

Shouldn’t have married a knife-thrower, he thought once again.
__________
Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse 
Words: 200
Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 34
Photo prompt: origin unknown

Thursday, September 12, 2013

Lonely


He hadn’t seen her in a year — not since the last conference.

Kindred spirits, they met often at industry events, sitting together during boring keynotes, snickering softly while joking sotto voce about the speakers.

Invariably she would lean closely as she spoke, whispering into his ear, her lips touching the finest hairs on the skin of his earlobe, sending tickling ripples of heat down to his crotch.

They’d traded emails and phone calls afterward, chatting about business and their personal lives.

A week ago her calls and emails stopped; was something wrong?

He missed her horribly. Though virtual, the place she filled in him ached even though he’d never been able to do more than shake her hand.

Her name was still on the attendees list, though. He’d seek her out at registration.

And there she was, still beautiful, offering a hesitant smile over the sign-in table when their eyes met.

He scribbled hastily as she sidled up to him, ripping the sticker off its backing, slapping it on his lapel at her eye level.

Hello, I’m quite lonely without you, it read.

“Not anymore,” she whispered in his ear as she flung her arms around his neck.
__________
Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse 
Words: 199 (as submitted, 200)
Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 33
Photo prompt: origin unknown

Monday, September 9, 2013

Her Bag

HER BAG

INT. TSA SECURITY CHECK-IN LINE - LATE MORNING

JERRY is flustered, rushing to the check-in line as he listens to flight announcements overhead. He removes his shoes, chucks them in a plastic tray with his keys on the inspection conveyor, and lays his laptop bag open along with a floral tapestry bag along side the tray.

JERRY steps through the metal detector, arms up, while watching his tray and laptop bag move into the x-ray and out the other side.

The floral bag does not emerge. JERRY stands at the exit end of the x-ray, waiting for TSA WORKER-1 to finish x-raying the bag.

TSA WORKER-1 looks up from the x-ray monitor at JERRY, then flags TSA WORKER-2 to look at the monitor.

PASSENGERS are restless and glare at the TSA WORKERS and JERRY.

TSA WORKER-2 whispers to TSA WORKER-1 though they cannot be heard. TSA WORKER-2 takes the floral bag as it emerges from the scanner.

TSA WORKER-2 carries the floral bag to the end of the line where an empty table waits. TSA WORKER-3 approaches; they appear to be more senior. TSA WORKER-2 whispers in TSA WORKER-3’s ear as they both eye JERRY up and down.


TSA WORKER-2
Sir, can you tell me about the contents of this bag? The name on the bag doesn’t appear to match the name on the laptop bag. Did anyone give you this bag to carry?


JERRY
Yes, I was supposed to carry this bag for someone.


All the TSA WORKERS within hearing look up at JERRY. The security line comes to a halt as TSA WORKER-4 and TSA WORKER-5 now approach JERRY from behind while gesturing to passengers in the line to halt.


TSA WORKER-2
Do you have the name of the person for whom you are carrying this bag?


JERRY
Yes, my girlfriend. Her name is Elyse Johnson. She asked me to bring it with me on my trip.


TSA WORKER-2
Sir, the name on this tag is not Elyse Johnson. To whom does this bag belong, sir?


JERRY
What? Hang on, I can call her—  
(pulls out phone and presses display)


TSA WORKER-3
(gestures to stop)
I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, sir. Please give me your cellphone.


JERRY
Huh? I’m just calling my girlfriend.


TSA WORKER-2
Sir, please do as you’re asked.


JERRY hands his phone over to TSA WORKER-3, who checks the phone to see if the number on the display matches the name JERRY offered.


TSA WORKER-2
Can you tell us anything about the contents of this bag, sir?


JERRY
It’s my girlfriend’s bag. She left ahead of me on a business side trip. I’m supposed to meet her on vacation and bring this bag with me. It’s got personal effects she didn’t want to pack for her business trip. It might be a bag she borrowed from her mother or a girlfriend. I don’t know.


TSA WORKER-2
There’s a suspicious object in this bag. We need to unload the bag and inspect the contents.


JERRY
(skeptically)
O-kay—


TSA WORKER-2 unloads the bag slowly, one object at a time —  books, additional lingerie and swimsuits in a clear plastic bag, small bottles of sunscreen, a makeup bag, phone charger, batteries.

TSA WORKER-2 looks at TSA WORKER-3, shaking their head negatively. TSA WORKER-3 nods. TSA WORKER-2 begins to palpate the bag, feeling for something at the bottom of the bag not in plain sight.

TSA WORKER-2 takes the bag back to the scanner and asks TSA WORKER-1 to run it through again. They peer carefully at the display, pointing to something.

TSA WORKER-2 brings the bag back from the scanner and opens the bag more fully.


TSA WORKER-2
Sir, there appears to be something inside a hidden pocket in this bag. We’re going to have to open this. Are you sure you can’t tell us something about it?


JERRY
(more puzzled)
Um, no, I have no idea what she packed, let alone that there was a hidden pocket.


JERRY appears worried, running his hand through his hair. TSA WORKER-4 and TSA WORKER-5 are more alert now, watching JERRY carefully.

TSA WORKER-2 turns bag upside down, then rights the bag when nothing comes out. TSA WORKER-2 palpates the bag’s interior again, then removes the bottom liner to reveal a Velcro-sealed pocket.

TSA WORKER-2 open the Velcro closure with a long ripping sound, drawing the attention of all persons in the security area. TSA WORKER-2 reaches into the pocket and pulls out another pack of batteries, a detachable power charger, a small bottle of personal lubricant, and a massive, flesh-colored, vibrator-dildo.

JERRY’s eyes nearly bug out of his head, his jaw drops open, slack with shock as TSA WORKERS and passengers alike gasp.

TSA WORKER-3 raises an eyebrow, then holds out arms in calming gesture.


TSA WORKER-3
(loudly)
It’s a dick, people, not a bomb. Move along.


JERRY hangs head in shame.


TSA WORKER-2
Um, sorry, man. Must be some vacation your girl has planned, eh?


JERRY just shakes his head as TSA WORKER-2 stows dildo and batteries back in the bag.

FADE OUT.
__________
© Copyright 2013—All rights reserved.
By Femme Malheureuse

Sunday, September 8, 2013

Lust



The poet Rumi said, “Lovers don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along.”

I recite this line over and over in my head as you writhe and wait for me to finish these photos before we join our flesh.

You are in my lens as I aim the camera upon your form.

You are in my eye as you return my hungry gaze.

You are in my heart as I focus upon the tear forming at the corner of your eye.

You were in me long before we met, and I in you.

You perfect me now in our joining, soft meeting firm, sweet melting sharp.

Your image reveals what I am inside, the part of me that has always been you and yours.

Though I cannot fully satisfy my lust for you while I’m away, I capture your lusciousness here in my lens before embedding the taste of you on my tongue, the perfume of you in my nose, and feel of you on my skin.

I’ll be reminded by these photos of the man I can be, made better by you.

I’ll recall the better man I have become, the one in love with you.

________

Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse
Words: 199
Originally submitted to Sinful Sunday—Week 47 via Rebecca Grace Allen
Photo prompt: origin unknown | Word prompt: lust

Friday, September 6, 2013

Burnt

The following was written to a prompt at Go Into The Story: Write a scene up to 2 pages long in which you begin with this line: “Smoke stings his/her eyes.”
_________

BURNT


INT. URBAN BLIND PIG — AFTER MIDNIGHT


Smoke stings her eyes as NOE sits through another set, slowly nursing a vodka-rocks. She watches guitarist KAL to the exclusion of the rest of his bandmates.


KAL watches NOE, too, blinking away the filmy haze of cigarette and pot smoke as he performs.


The set ends. KAL breaks down and stows his portion of the equipment on the band’s dais. NOE stands, abandoning what’s left of her drink to pace in front of her table as she watches and waits.


CLOSE ON KAL as he approaches NOE, leaning in tight to whisper in her ear


KAL
You deliberately teased the fuck out of me all evening, didn’t you?

NOE
Who, me? Hell no, I—



KAL cuts her off, gripping her chin in his hand as he kisses her breathless, pulling away only after he feels her relax. NOE’s eyes are heavy, her mouth slack, prompting KAL to smirk.

KAL
Yeah, you. Your nasty little skirt kept slipping all night. Every time I looked down I got a flash of your thighs.

Muffled shouts and breaking glass wrenches KAL’s attention away from NOE. Their heads turn in tandem, looking for the source of the noise.


KAL grips her upper arms and pulls her toward him as he whispers in her ear.

KAL
It’s a raid.

NOE
(panicky)
Shit, I can’t be here, my husband—

Wild-eyed, she clutches at his arms as he jerks her along, dragging her toward the back door.


BLACK OUT.

_________


© Copyright 2013—All rights reserved.
By Femme Malheureuse

Thursday, September 5, 2013

Dire Straits

This script was written to a prompt at Go Into The Story for September: Scene Writing Month. The challenge for September 4th: Write a scene featuring two characters sitting on the edge of a bridge.
__________

DIRE STRAITS (Ver. 1 - shorter)


EXT. STRAITS OF MACKINAW - NAUTICAL MORNING TWILIGHT


CLOSE ON profiles of two teenagers who lean together. Her head rests on his shoulder as they sit, looking toward impending sunrise.


EMMA sighs as SAM shuts his eyes. They listen to the susurrus waves as seagulls squawk overhead and early fishing boats thrum in the distance.


CLOSE ON their hands, joined on his denim-covered thigh. Their hands push back and forth at each other as they talk.


EMMA (V.O.)
You started this. You're the only person who has ever gotten under my skin.


SAM (V.O.)
No, you started this. You've known me since first grade. You know which of my buttons to press.


EMMA (V.O.)
You didn't have to goad me, though.


SAM (V.O.)
And you didn't have to call me a chicken.


CLOSE ON their profiles as they continue to watch the changing light as they talk.


EMMA
You know I can't back down from a dare. Especially in front of people. Like the entire cafeteria. What was up with that?


SAM
You could've stopped right after you swallowed the goldfish in Biology. But no, you had to call me a chicken when I didn't want to eat one, too.


EMMA
Serves you right. You're lucky that goldfish only gave you diarrhea.


SAM
I don't think it was the fish. I think it was nerves. (beat) Are we done now? Did I prove I wasn't chicken? Will you promise not to call me chicken if I don't dare you again?


EMMA
(laughing)
I promise.


SAM
I promise, too.


CLOSE ON the couple as SAM leans into her a bit. SAM kisses EMMA's forehead. EMMA looks up and kisses him back on his lips. They stare at each other again for a moment before looking toward the sun as it peeks over the horizon.


EMMA
(grins broadly)
Race you back to the beach. Last one to hit the sand has to start thumbing for the ride home.


SAM
(looking shocked at first, then intent)
Oh hell no, I'm not thumbing, you are!


VERTICAL PAN UP AND OUT SLOWLY as the couple scrambles from where their seat on the edge of the Mackinaw Bridge deck, more than 150 feet above the water between lakes Huron and Michigan, two miles from the straits' southern shore.


FADE OUT.
_________
© Copyright 2013 — All rights reserved.

By Femme Malheureuse