Frisky Friday Flash Fiction

frisky-friday

Happy Friday! It’s time for another installment in Frisky Friday Flash Fiction. You know the drill. I provide a picture and the first lines of a story (300 words maximum). You provide the rest. I select the best and post it the following week.

Let’s look back at last week’s story:

they-thought-me-dead

“Job Undone”

Always check twice.

Someone should have told Alexander that before he tossed my body overboard. Someone should have warned him that sometimes trouble comes back to haunt you.

Thinking he could kill me was a mistake, but thinking I’d stay dead and forget his debt was worse.

I shrug off my watery coffin like a blanket. No need for pretense. I don’t need to climb a ladder to get back to the man who claimed he loved me. The man who cheated on me with my own sister.

A man approaches me, a member of the yacht’s crew. I hold out my palm. He freezes in his tracks. One swipe of my hand and now he’s the one flailing in the cold water.

I glide down the few stairs and step into the cabin. Moans and groans come from the bedroom at the end of the hall. Those sounds are from my cheating lover, Alexander, and my traitorous sister, Abigail. They really are meant for each other. She’s never done an honest thing in her entire life. And Alexander? I was warned about him, but I chose not to listen to all the depraved stories.

I push open the door, for effect, and stand at the foot of the bed. They’re so caught up in the throes of passion that they fail to notice me. I swipe my hand and the covers slip off of Abigail’s body.

“What the hell?” she shouts. Abigail reaches for the sheet and she notices me.

Her screaming stops Alexander pounding into her. “What the fuck?”

“What the fuck indeed,” I say.

“I thought you killed her. You said she was dead.” My sister scurries into a corner.

Alexander rubs his face. “I did. I pushed her over.”

I smile. “You didn’t finish the job.”

And now for this week’s:

tattoo-teaser

He said I was a blank canvas waiting to be adorned.

But what he wanted to paint on my skin shouldn’t be placed on any body. Ever.

Problem is, I had no choice. He owned me. My mind, my body, my soul.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s