Flash Fiction Carnival.

The Element of Fire

April Prompt: The Elements: Earth, Water, Fire, Air.

Due Date: 15/04/08

Word Count: 1016

Evelyn ran down the steps of the Church, where she had been praying for Hugo. She dashed along the cobbled lane towards their home, heart pumping, lungs heaving and muscles burning with the exertion. He was home! Dear God! He was home at last! She would find him, throw herself into his arms and her fears would fade. After weeks of worry and sleep filled with a profusion of nightmares, she could finally reassure herself that he was in one piece.

“He is upstairs my Lady, awaiting your arrival. Impatiently I might venture to add.” Claire, the cook, chuckled as Evelyn sped past her.

“Yes, Claire, the Vicar told me soldiers had ridden by. I knew it was him, I just knew it!” she laughed as she took the stairs in an eager rush.

The passage way seemed so long and she was in a hurry to get to him. Thoughts flashed through her mind of another long walk down this passage. Her wedding night! Her Baptism by Fire! Hugo had allowed no argument or embarrassment to keep her from experiencing the fullness of their union.

At last, their door! Evelyn stepped into their bedroom and was shocked at the sight before her. Hugo was covered in dust and mud, his hair was disheveled and his face bore the pallor of an exhausted man. She let out a moan and ran across the room to where he stood staring into the fire place. His eyes solemn and transfixed on the writhing flames and smoke performing their exotic dance. He looked up as she came hurtling towards him, love softening his eyes.

“Hugo!” she threw herself at him, entwined her arms around his neck as her lips sought his with desperation. The kiss was wild and wet with tears. Relief speared her, he was whole. “I was so afraid for you.” she cried into his mouth as the kiss broke.

“Ev, I am safe love, no damage done. See, touch me.” She felt him shudder as her fingers roamed across the front of his uniform. “Yes, flesh and blood, not a ghost. Don’t cry, not now. I need your sweet smile and the sound of your laughter to drive away my dark mood. I need you.” he drew her back into his arms, his hold strong enough to elicit a gasp from her.

“Hugo, come, sit in the chair with me. Talk to me, please. Perhaps, with the telling of it all, this lingering darkness you feel will be cast out.”

“I want to sit here and hold you, take your warmth into me. I want to forget the ugliness. Images of the battle bombard my mind day and night, I feel soiled and sick of heart.” Her head rested on his shoulder as her hand stroked up and down his arm, her finger finding and gently tracing the outline of the still healing scar on his forearm.

“Tell me about it, it will help.” She cuddled closer, hoping she could erase the stain of war, but unsure of how to go about it. “Have you eaten, are you hungry?”

“Claire, brought up bread and cheese, but I have no appetite.” His grip tightened on her back as he brought her face up to his. “I don’t mean to be so bleak, but when I am not with you it eats at me. The futility of this useless war weighs heavily on me. It is so hard to keep my perspective. I am finding it harder and harder to understand why I do this. Help me, Ev.”

“Hugo, you have always fought with honor because you believed it was your duty. Do you not believe in that duty anymore? I would be glad, very glad if you decided not to go away to fight again. It would not lessen my opinion of you, you know that don’t you? You have nothing to prove to me, nothing at all. I love you.” An undeniable hope that he was done with war and death, rose up in her.

“I was committed to this war, but I am no longer filled with the flush of pride for soldiering. I can no longer tell you that I like what I do, that I am that same young man who once would give all to his country. I am questioning what I once believed to be the absolute truth. Who is this enemy I kill? What sin has he committed that I must slaughter him? These questions haunt me.” He leaned his face against her head and let her presence soothe him as nothing else could.

“Take me to bed, Hugo, I want to hold you. I don’t know how to advise you but I have comfort for you whilst you consider these things. Come love, let us idle away a few hours in each others arms and pretend the world has disappeared. Pretend all is as it should be. Pretend that man does not wreak havoc upon himself. That innocence still prevails.”

Smiling for his benefit, Evelyn led him to their bed and undressed him slowly. Deliberately lingering at the places she knew would illicit groans of approval from him. She watched his eyes cloud, his breath catch and his mouth relax and her heart leaped for joy. Her intention being, that they would escape into the heat of their passion.

While Evelyn lay sprawled across their bed sleeping, Hugo rested his head on his arm as he leaned against the mantle piece; his stance tense. Decision made, he picked up the letter of Commission, bent down and dropped the document into the fire with cold, unsteady fingers. The edges of the paper turned brown immediately, sending smoke spiraling up and out the chimney into the cold night air. As the fire engulfed the remnants of the document, soft murmurs brought Hugo back to the moment. He turned to the women on the bed, his wife, his love. His future!

Flash Fiction Carnival.

Redemption.

F.F.C. 2nd March Prompt – Easter.

Date Due: 21st March, 08.
Word Count: 950.




Tears streamed down her face as she looked at the wrinkled black and white photograph of them together on her twenty fifth birthday. Her eyes were drawn tenderly to the two elements of the picture that always moved her heart. His beloved face and the watch he had given her, the favorite of all the birthday presents she had received from him during their time together.


She stuffed the photo into her pocket as her strides ate up the footpath, almost at a run. Desperate to get inside and close the world out she fumbled with the key. Tears barely held back, blurred her vision and threatened to spill over onto her cheeks. She threw the door open and stepped inside, closed it and leaned her forehead against the cold surface. The first sob broke free, followed by another and another until she was broken and crumpled on the floor.


Long minutes passed before she had control of her emotions, enough to stagger into her bedroom, turning the lights on as she went. The light kept the irrational fear of the dark that plagued her at bay. Did he still remember how the dark frightened her, tormented her? Did he ever think about her after all the years of separation? Did he still care? Did he wonder where she was and what had happened to her? It seemed illogical that he would still care after the horrible arguments and nasty, final parting. Her disappearance surely must have snuffed out any love that may have lingered in his heart. Ridiculously, that thought broke her heart anew.


Why, after all these years, did the memory of that last monumental argument still leave her anguished? She loved him, had never stopped loving him, that’s why. To protect herself, she had hidden that truth masterfully under layers of anger, mistrust and disillusionment. Even after his cold- hearted decision to never have children, her desire for him had not waned. Fiery passion and lust drew her thoughts constantly to the sexuality they had reveled in. Sadly, they would never experience each other like that again. There had never been anyone else who interested her in that way and she realized there never would be.


Pride had been her downfall. Perhaps if she had been able to sort through her emotions and recognize them for what they were, they would still be a couple. Stubbornness had forbidden her to acknowledge that she still loved him, missed him and hungered for him. She was the ‘fool’ he had accused her of being, but not for the reason he had cited. Why? She needed to get that clear in her mind. Because enough was enough, she wanted, needed life. Staying as she was, would not give her the life she was looking for. It would bring death, sure slow death. Even though she would be walking and talking, she would be an emotional corpse.


Years of loneliness, fear and bitterness had been the substitute she had chosen instead of love and happiness. She had taken his horrible cruelty and made it her shroud, hidden away in a mental tomb, allowed despair to rule her. As usual, every year on her birthday, she was the saddest and the harshest critic of the life she had chosen. But her dark and damaged soul was undergoing a change, at last. Her heart was looking for warmth and love again. Timidly, but truthfully, now that she was seeing so much about herself that she wanted to change.


At first, thoughts of accidentally seeing him again had driven her crazy, sending her into tighter seclusion. Now it was possible to drag his picture from its hiding place and actually look at him. She had sworn in the beginning, that she would never want to look upon his face again. The desire to look at it continually and put it in its rightful place on top of her chest of drawers, had become overwhelming.


Today, on this birthday she would tear off the shroud and begin the process of living. In fact, she would start the process now. She was done with the dark, colorless world she inhabited. Spring was full of vibrant color, fresh smells, budding leaves and flowers. No better time than now!


The house keys hung loosely in her hand, as she gathered her resolve and closed the front door. She didn’t need to drive; a ten minute walk would see her at his place. What would he think when he knew she had been so close all these years? She shivered at the thought of him still being angry with her, or of renewed anger because of her deceit. But today was Good Friday, surely forgiveness would be granted today.


The yard was the same, pretty in its budded state. The footpath was cracked and wobbly, but otherwise everything looked just as well-cared for as the last time she was here – too many years ago. She hoped it could be their house again.


The front door was within reach, all she had to do was reach out her hand and grab the knocker, rapping until he answered. What if he wasn’t at home? What if he wouldn’t talk to her? Her body ached with the adrenalin pumping through it, all logic and rationale gone.


His footsteps! The door opening! His surprised face! His arms open wide! The shock and relief of seeing her unashamedly reflected in his eyes. Her eyes swept his tear streaked face and she knew what had to be done.


“Forgive me.” Echoed into the night.

Flash Fiction Carnival.

Regret.

March Prompt: Letters and/or Numbers.
Submission Date: 03/12/08

Word Count: 748

The watch face was invisible to him in the dark and although he was unable to see it in the ghostly shadows of the room, he knew the look and feel of it by heart. The delicate roman numerals and gold leaf hands gave a simple feminine elegance to a piece that told the time with reliable Swiss accuracy. His fingers played across the Marquisette bows that linked into the slim band and clasp, nudging his memory and rekindling deeply buried emotions. Feelings, he knew would rush up and hit him with the force of a tidal wave, if he didn't put the watch back in the drawer and walk away. But he knew from past experience it was impossible to stop the inevitable, not now that he had already opened the drawer and himself to the moment, the memories.

His fingers stilled as his mind filled with pictures of her and recollections of tender moments together. Times of loving that brought them together with vibrant passion and times of anger that after it had all blown over, had put a horrible distance between them. Days and nights of bickering or not talking, then coming together in the wild frenzy of making up, repairing the damage of harshly spoken words and anger. There was never indifference or apathy in their relationship, but a fire, he believed would never go out. He had been sure the bonds that tied them together were unbreakable, that nothing would shake the foundations of love, trust and understanding. But he'd been wrong.

He should not have picked up the watch; he would have had an escape had he left it closed away in the drawer. This day, of all days, he could not leave well enough alone. Her birthday!

He could bear the sadness the sight and touch of the watch evoked. But the desire to hold her, feel her arms sliding around him in the dark warmth and safety of their bed, stole over him like a dull grey mist eating at his soul. Dredging up too many memories and passions too long unfulfilled. There had been many women in the years since, cold, brief affairs, couplings to slake baser needs. No love, warmth or tenderness, just the barest human contact to remind him he was still alive. He honestly could not stand the thought of making the effort to get to know somebody else. She had been his only love, his only true friend and confidant. He had never contemplated replacing her, nor wanted to watch some woman touch her things, sit in her chair, lay in her bed.

He was a mess and he knew it. Years had done nothing to soften his betrayal, her betrayal. Perhaps his absolute resistance to starting a new relationship was a form of punishment. He had suspected for many years that this was so. Again he took himself through all the stupid actions and reactions that had brought them to the horrible impasse in their lives.

He had called her a 'fool' for wanting children, told her they were just fine as they were; childless. She had cried, begged and pleaded with him to reconsider, to make them a real family. His absolute refusal resulted in her packing and leaving. His mind's eye saw her standing at the front door, tears of anger and frustration marring her beautiful face as she told him he was a heartless bastard and not to bother trying to contact her. They were finished.

He had tried many times, over long years to find her, desperate to reconcile their differences, even make the family she had so longed for, but to no avail. She had disappeared without a trace. Obviously unwilling to be found. So once more, the whole course of their time together had been gone over, examined and had left him crushed yet again.

The watch had been a gift to her on her twenty fifth birthday and he had believed she loved it, more than all the other presents he had ever given her. Apparently he had destroyed her love of the gift, as he had destroyed her love for him. He reached out and placed his only memento of her, back into its box and closed the drawer. His only hope being, that one year he would refuse to open the draw, refuse to exhume the past and examine it in such finite detail. Refuse to hurt himself again. Stop asking himself, who was the fool?