Time was forever escaping Nereida. She needed to complete her thesis for graduation. Her research had been done. Now, all she had to do was organize it and her thoughts.
Time was moving quickly forward with each passing hour. She was following close behind. Her hopes and dreams depended on this final work. She’d been through years and years of studies to reach this goal she had set for herself.
She doodled. Tapped her pencil. Chewed on her pen. An empty mind was not what she needed at this time.
The moon filtered through the starless clouded sky.
She could see tiny white lights shining on the patio. By midnight, they’d be drunk.
It was the perfect night to go.
Silk stockings stretched over her shapely legs and thighs. A black leather skirt accented her curvaceous hips. The spiky heels, she’d picked up at a yard sale, completed her outfit. She felt as fiery as a hot chili pepper.
The house was eerily quiet. The chilly air, a reminder of her long-term estrangement from her mother.
Sorting through years of her mementos was going to be laboriously stressful. It would be easier once Monique arrived.
She opened a leather box her mother kept on her desk. Letters from France?
Angelique read the last letter:
‘Dearest, I miss you, though your touch lingers still. Without you, time is an empty space. I long to hold you. My heart aches for your return. Come back soon, Mon amour. Je t’aime, Pierre’
Ergo, the secret of our French names finally revealed.
“Maw,” Becky Sue whined, tears streaming down her face.
“Child, look what you’ve done,” Momma said pointing to the floor.
“Ya’ll dragged muddy dirt in. I’m near ‘bout to lose my mind with all the work that’s gotta be done ‘round here.”
“But, Maw, come see. Bubba’s done a real bad thing,” Becky Sue bawled.
“Please Maw, please come see.”
“Fine! I suppose it’s gotta be important.”
“Look,” Becky Sue pointed.
“Lordy that child’s done gone too far this time. Drinkin’, smokin’ and breakin’ your favorite dolly.”
“Go find me a switch, Becky Sue. Someone ‘round here needs some learnin’.”
This is an encore of a previous entry for Friday Fictioneers. Our Purple Goddess has granted permisson to repeat our story since the photo prompt is having another go-round. Enjoy ….
The parade was on Sunday.
Nana was excited. She’d be driving Pop Pop’s antique car.
He’d purchased it at an auction. It took him 8 years to restore her.
Sadly, he never got to show her off.
“Will you be able to see, Nana?”, I asked.
“I’ll be dazzling wearing my wide brimmed yellow hat”, she beamed.
“But, the ophthalmologist said to limit your driving.”
“Lily, I wouldn’t miss showcasing your Pop Pop’s car for anything.”
She slept soundly, with a dazzling smile, that night.
I drove the car wearing her wide brimmed yellow hat.
Harry stares out the window. He sits and stares since his Ruby’s brutal murder.
He’d taken her to the museum; then, a dimly lit dinner. She was beautiful.
Harry noticed the waiter leer at her. She provoked men with her beauty.
Her eyes the color of emeralds.
Now, he sit and stares.
He doesn’t care if he leaves the room.
He doesn’t pay bills; watch television or knows who feeds him.
His life is whatever passes outside the window.
All he sees are changing seasons, joggers, passing cars and Ruby’s ghost.
She could see Marcus in his white Escalade. He made sure all his girls were where they were supposed to be. Stay warm, baby, Candy’s bringing you what you want. Money …
~~~~~
How did she get in this mess? She’s from Connecticut. We’re good girls.
Me? I’m the rebel. I never follow rules.
Candace could see no way out. She wasn’t Candace anymore.
~~~~~
“Hey Darlin’, lookin’ for some fun?”
“Sure, baby”.
“Let’s go for a ride.”
~~~~~
The bright marquee lit the seedy motel. The room stank of smoke and sweat.
~~~~~
Thug!
If he hadn’t pulled the knife, Marcus wouldn’t have shot.
